


What Feels Right/This Loving Game

by ImagineBeatles



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom John, Daddy Kink, Don't Like Don't Read, John is 17, John is a troublesome teen with an unhealthy love for older men, John is too damn irresistible, M/M, McLennon, Neither John Nor Paul Dies, Paul is 42, Paul is John's stepdad, Paul is an English teacher, Paul is dating Julia, Paul tries to be a responsible adult, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stepdad-Stepson Relationship, Top Paul, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 306,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: Paul and Julia have been going out for a while and now they’ve decided to move in together. What Paul hadn’t expected when he’d agreed was that he’d fall in love with her troublesome teenage son, John.





	1. Chapter 1

The ring of the bell continued to echo in his mind for a long time after it had stopped. The last of his students were gathering their things before disappearing out of the door with a faint goodbye. Only a few seemed bothered by the fact that their teacher didn’t even seem to hear them. Most of them simply went without another glance to celebrate their few days of freedom. Paul supposed a party would be happening that evening, judging by the enthusiastic mutterings he had heard over the last two days.

“Are you alright, Mr. McCartney?” Paul looked up into the direction from where the voice had been coming. One of his students was watching him curiously, as if waiting for a reply. Only then did he realise she had asked him a question.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you, Miss Cox,” he answered quickly, smiling as he did so.  The young girl smiled back, pushed her hair behind ear and muttered shyly that she felt relieved to hear that. Another girl, who was standing slightly behind her friend, didn’t seem too convinced by his answer yet, however, and moved closer, her head circling around her friend’s shoulder.

“Are you sure, Mr. McCartney? You’ve been a bit out of it all day, or so it seemed,” she told him. Paul’s smile widened at that. He always seemed to get more attention than most teachers from his students, especially his female ones, but still he was surprised whenever he heard his different behaviour didn’t go unnoticed. He felt bad for not remembering her name at that moment.

“Yes, I suppose I need a couple of days off just as much as you do,” he said with a chuckle, “Now, don’t worry about your stupid teacher and go enjoy the weekend. I’ll see you both on Monday.” The girls nodded and picked up their bags before heading out of the classroom. Paul smiled at himself as he watched them go.

The real reason for why he hadn’t been able to focus too much on his lessons, was something completely different, but he chose not to share much about his personal life with his students. He was a private man, forty-two years of age and now for the first time since he broke up with his last fiancée, he was moving in with someone. For the first time in almost seven years he was going to live with someone again. Finally he would be able to move out of that terrible flat of his and move into a proper house and start a normal life again. He would officially be moving in this weekend and he was supposed to meet his girlfriend for tea to make arrangements in forty minutes. Come to think of it, he couldn’t really afford to sit there much longer, staring at the papers on his desks. He couldn’t be late.

After Paul had quickly thrown all his things in his large, leather bag, he headed out of the old school building. It still felt odd, walking through the doors as a teacher, when it wasn’t all that long ago that he had been a student here himself. Or so it seemed. The thought made him feel old.

It was a warm autumn day. The sun was lowering and a warm breeze ruffled through the yellow and red leaves. He took a deep breath and unwrapped his silk scarf from his neck, deciding it was still too warm to be wearing that in late September. He even unbuttoned his long, woollen, black coat. Quickly, he descended down the stairs and went to the parking lot, where he had put his bicycle against the iron gate that separated the school grounds from the city centre of Liverpool. He could find his bicycle with ease this time. Normally, some troublesome students enjoyed moving bicycles around so people had to look for them. Luckily, he wasn’t today’s victim. After checking his watch one last time, he got on and cycled off, not wanting to keep his girlfriend waiting.

All in all it didn’t take Paul long to find the coffee shop where he was supposed to meet up with her. The street on which it was situated was slowly filling up with people as more and more of them got off work and started to enjoy their long awaited weekend. Still, he managed to cycle through the crowd of people without riding into someone and soon found himself going inside the coffee shop.

It was a cosy little place. In the centre of the room, against the wall, there was a large bar and a couple of counters that had delicious-looking foods on them. The rest of the room was filled with little wooden tables with light floral tablecloths and white seats. On every table there was either a little lamp or flowerpot. It was still quiet, with only a few people having some coffee or tea. Therefore it wasn’t difficult for Paul to spot the familiar redhead across the room. He smiled to himself and felt himself warm up from within as he walked over to her and surprised her with a kiss on her cheek.

She tensed up at the sudden kiss, but as he muttered his hello against her cheek, she relaxed in his arms and laughed playfully at the affection.

“It’s only me, you know,” Paul told her with a wink as he pulled away. She chuckled and shook her head as he sat down opposite her.

“And how was I supposed to know that?” she asked. Paul shrugged.

“I don’t know, but we might have to find a solution if it becomes a problem. You might start hitting me one day,” he said, making Julia laugh. A young woman arrived at their table to take their orders. Julia said she’d already ordered and Paul asked for a simple cup of coffee. Julia asked if he didn’t want something to eat with it, but Paul declined.

“Your loss, then. I’m still having my slice of lemon cake,” she told him. The waitress nodded and went off with his order. It wasn’t long until they were both given their coffee and Julia her slice of lemon cake.

“Every woman deserves a treat every once in a while,” she said as she took her first bite.

“Especially when she’s going to have to work very hard carrying boxes the next day,” Paul added and Julia nodded.

“Without question. By the way, are you certain we won’t need any more people helping us tomorrow? It will be a lot of work.” Paul shook his head.

“No. I don’t have that much stuff. And we don’t need to move any furniture. Just the occasional bits and bobs,” he said as he took a sip of his coffee. It was good coffee. Warm and bitter, but it had something sweet to it. He didn’t even need to add much milk, which was odd, since he always put quite a bit of milk in both his tea and coffee. He made a mental note for himself to go here more often.

“Still,” Julia pushed on, “an extra hand wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“Your sister and George will be helping.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to us to be busy packing and unpacking all day. I want to enjoy our first day living together.” Paul smiled at the thought of their first day and night together. He had been looking forward to it ever since they had decided to take the next step and go for it. He had to admit that being busy unpacking all day wouldn’t be the best way to spend that day.

“Then, why don’t you ask your son to help?” he suggested, smiling when Julia made a face, thinking about how beautiful this woman was, even when making silly faces.

“John? I don’t know…”

“Why not? He’s seventeen years old. I’m sure he could carry a few heavy boxes.”

“It’s not that. You know what he’s like. I’ve told you before, he’s not keen on you already.”

“He hasn’t even met me!”

“That’s not the point,” Julia told him, chewing her lip. Paul sighed. He had been going out with Julia for almost half a year now and he had known about her son and daughter from the start. To be honest, he hadn’t been surprised. Not many women in their late thirties didn’t have any kids. Especially beautiful women like Julia. But even after all this time, she hadn’t allowed him to meet John once, unlike her daughter, also named Julia, with whom he’s spent a couple of happy afternoons. He had only seen the boy on a picture. He did look like trouble, but Paul was a teacher. He worked with teenagers. He was certain he could get on with John if he got the chance. He had told Julia that often enough, but still she had refused.

“He needs to meet me some day, Julia. And it’s better not to do that over breakfast Sunday morning,” he said, reaching for her hand and holding it in his own.

“But what if he doesn’t like you? Or if he starts to cause trouble. He’s not as easy to deal with as you think, Paul. He has never liked any of the men I've brought home since his father had gone away. Not even Julia’s father. Sometimes I think he still hopes he might come back.”

“Then we’ll deal with that later. He won’t start liking me if you won’t give us a chance. And besides, I’ve met Julia already. She seems to adore me.” Paul told her smugly. Julia smiled half-heartedly at him.

“Yes, because you keep giving her sweets whenever you come over.”

“I can bring some for John if you think that might help,” Paul offered only half jokingly, “Come on, darling. I know he probably won’t like me at first, but that’s normal. This kind of thing needs time. Especially at his age.”

“I don’t know, Paul. John isn’t the type to help you move in if he doesn’t like you. He’s more likely to set your things on fire, if anything. Sweets or no sweets,” Julia warned him, making Paul laugh. The more he heard about John the more curious he got. He sort of understood what John was going through, though. He had lost his mother at the age of fourteen and when his dad remarried, it hadn’t been easy. But John couldn’t be as bad as Julia made him out to be.

“Come on, luv. Just ask him. Maybe he’ll like to help. And if not, than that’s okay. I could meet him at dinner after we’ve finished unpacking, if you prefer? At least my stuff will be safe then,” Paul joked. He could see Julia think about it from across the table. She rubbed her forehead and took another bite of her cake, before sighing. With a reluctant nod she gave into him.

“Fine,” she said, “but if anything goes wrong, it’s your fault.”

“I can live with that,” Paul agreed with a self-satisfied smile and drank some more of that delicious coffee that was still waiting for him.

* * *

 

John awoke that morning by the sound of something tapping against his bedroom window. With great effort he managed to open his eyes. It must have been early, no later than eight o ‘clock, which yes, was early considering it was Saturday morning and John was not at all a morning person. A watery, dim light shone through an opening in the curtains into the room, lighting up everything just enough for John to see without turning on the lights. The tapping continued. After a minute of wiggling around in his bed with his eyes tightly shut, John threw the blankets off him and moved over to the window to make the irritating noise stop. Sliding the curtain aside, John greeted the young lad standing below his window, who was throwing rocks into his direction, with a raised middle finger and a glare. The young lad simply smirked up at him and waved, which made John chuckle. He closed the curtain again and started to undress.

Knowing his mother, he had to hurry up. She wasn’t up early often, but she still managed to wake him up doing the most ridiculous things when she had something important planned that day, like vacuuming or doing the dishes while singing rock ‘n roll songs for all the neighbourhood to hear. Besides, this day was important to her. John couldn’t blame her really. So far the guy didn’t seem like a complete dick, but he hadn’t seen him yet, so his judgement wasn’t fully made up, yet. Still, he didn’t like the fact some unknown guy was moving in with them.

Grabbing a pair of black drainpipe trousers from his desk chair and a simple white shirt out of his closet, he quickly dressed himself and combed his hair, adding gel where needed and messing it up again by running his fingers through it. He grabbed his package of smokes and a box of matches from his desk, putting them in his pockets, before softly opening the door and stepping outside. His leather jacket was downstairs already, he knew. He held his breath and listened closely as he shut the door behind him. He didn’t want Julia to wake up. She’d tell him to stay and help unpacking, he knew, which he didn’t want to do.

He had seen many men come by and go in the last ten or something years and none had stayed for long. Sometimes only a week or two, but usually never more than three months. Not even Julia’s father had stayed for longer than a year and two months, which John supposed that might even be long, considering. But this one had actually held on for a while. Still, John knew it wouldn’t last. He had decided two boyfriends ago that he would not bother with them any longer. His mother deserved much better than the men she usually brought home. They would always let him down, and more importantly his mother. If only she would see she wasn’t worth the guys’ time. John hoped she’d see it sooner rather than later. If he was lucky she’d see it this coming week. He knew there would be something about this guy that would cause them to break up, again, as always. There always was. Perhaps he’d snore? His mum hated people who snore, he knew. They kept her awake.

John waited for two seconds, holding his breath, before he tiptoed to the stairs and descended them, careful not to make a noise and wake his mother up. He skipped the third, sixth, seventh and last step, knowing those creaked from years of experience, and managed to make it down without a single noise. He spotted his leather jacket on the coat rack and pulled it on. He moved his cigarettes from his pants to the pockets of his jacket. Then he bent down to put on his shoes. He kept his ears peaked all the while. It would be such a shame to get busted now. He was so far, the door and guaranteed freedom just within reach. Once he got his shoes on, he lit himself a ciggy and sneaked over to the kitchen to grab himself a slice of bread to eat on the way. He doubted Stuart had remembered to bring any food.

“I always have to do everything myself…’ John muttered, while taking a drag from his ciggy as he walked into the kitchen. He stared down at the floor and his ciggy as he went for the bread that Julia kept in a basket at the edge of the kitchen counters. John almost jumped two feet in the air when he heard a voice next to him, no more than three feet away.

"John!” a soft, cheery voice greeted him, “You’re up early, love. Ready to help your mum today?” John cursed quietly to himself, regretting the fact that he had not checked if the kitchen had been empty before stepping inside. He didn’t like saying no to his mother. He didn’t mind not helping, but refusing her was something he’d rather not have to do.

“Actually, mum, I am meeting up with Stuart and Cynthia this morning. We have some work to go over together for college,” John lied. He immediately felt bad. He didn’t like to have to lie to his mother. Not when it wasn’t necessary. John knew she’d let him go anyway, even if it wasn’t needed for school but just to hang out. Like himself, she found it difficult to say no.

“Oh, that’s a shame. There are some boxes that are terribly heavy and I was hoping my strong man would lend us a hand,” his mother tried, but John shook his head.

“Sorry. Stu's already waiting outside. Besides, you got your new man to help you now, don’t you?” That last came out a lot more bitter than John had intended. He stared down at the piece of bread in his hands and quickly took a bite, hoping his mother hadn’t noticed. Luck wasn’t with him today, however.

“John, please. I know you don’t want him to move in, but you could at least try to make it work. And you would never be replaced, you know that, don’t you?” she said.

John shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“I love you, you know. This won’t change that.”

“I know, Mum. I’m not a little kid. I’m not stupid,” John said, but deep down he wasn’t so sure. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d put a guy before him. She had told him she regretted it, but from then on John wasn’t sure if he could trust her not to do so again. It scared him, sort of, not being able to trust his mum in that respect. He stuffed the last of the bread in his mouth, grabbed his bag, which he had put in the corner the evening before because he knew dragging it downstairs with him would make too much noise, and wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulder, holding her tightly against him.

“I love you. If things move quickly, I’ll help this afternoon, okay?” he promised her, though he knew there was no way he was going to do that. Apparently his mother knew so to, because she forced him to stay with her a little longer, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tightly.

“Alright. But you have to promise me to be here for dinner. I want you to meet our new room mate,” she told him. John tried hard to hold back a groan, but he failed. “You’ll have to meet him someday, John. Tonight. Or else I’ll hold your allowance for two weeks, got it?”

“Yes, Mum. I’ll be there. Now, can I go?”

“Promise me first.”

“I promise.” And with those words, he was released. He kissed her cheek one last time, her red hair tickling his chin, before placing his ciggy back between his lips and turning on his heels to escape before his mother would change her mind.

“Love you!” she shouted after him. John merely grunted in reply, letting the front door fall close behind him with a loud bang.

“What took you so long, Lennon?” Stuart shouted at him from outside the garden gate. The scouse accent heavy on his tongue. John walked down the path through the front garden to where Stuart was standing on the pavement. He couldn’t see much of him, since he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he noticed the guy wore his classic sunglasses again, even though it was rather cloudy. His black hair was combed back and he too wore a pair of drainpipes with a simple shirt, though his was white with blue stripes. The edges of his trousers were rolled up once and something that looked like a blurry white line dangled between Stuart’s fingers. John guessed it was a ciggy. His suspicions were proved right when Stuart lifted it and took a long drag.

“Fuck off, Stu. My mum woke up before I did so I couldn’t sneak out. You try getting past her, I dare you,” John told him with an amused grin on his face.

“Oh really? You know what I think, Lennon? You’re getting weak on her. That’s why you’re late.” Stuart laughed and John laughed along.

“Haha, you wish! She’s worse than my auntie Mimi, I tell you.”

“Of course, John. So you’re having dinner with me at the pub tonight?” Stuart asked knowingly.

“Fuck off…” John muttered, pushing Stuart off the curb by shoving him by his shoulder, as he took another drag from his ciggy.

“Fucking knew it. Weak, I tell you. Soon you’ll be combing her hair while singing lullaby’s,” Stuart teased once he found his balance again. John couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

 

***

 

“So, is Cyn there already, or what?” John asked as they slowly walked through the streets of Liverpool. It wasn’t a long walk to the cemetery where they would be meeting up with Cynthia. John was already looking forward to it. It had been a while since they had last met up together, just the three of them.

“Yeah. I think she is,” Stuart replied, “Why? Don’t tell me you’re already into some of that chocolate she always drags along!” John grinned at him and nodded. He laughed when Stuart began to make gagging noises, pretending to be throwing up at the thought of it.

“Ugh… I can’t understand how you and Cynthia can eat chocolate as early as half past nine! It’s disgusting. Unholy some might say!” He sounded truly disgusted. John merely grinned at him.

“Not you, though, eh?” he teased. Stuart snickered and took another drag from his ciggy.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to, Johnny,” he said overly dramatically, “Not with all the foul and unholy things I’ve done. I might be trouble, but I’m no hypocrite.” John snickered at that, knowing fully well what his friend was hinting at. Still, John couldn’t wait to see Cynthia again. She always brought a piece of chocolate with her for them to share and in John’s opinion it was the best chocolate he’d ever tasted. He’d have some at any time of the day. No matter how early in the morning or late at night. He was worse than her, even, in that respect.

“Still, though. You might be a little. At least I don’t eat peanut butter sandwiches with bacon. Now that’s nauseating just to think about,” John shot at him with a laugh.

“Shut up. It’s a delicious culinary meal that a simple fool like you simply won’t understand.”

“Yes, because you have to be nuts to even think about eating it. No one in their right mind would come up with such a combination. Like many other high-end culinary foods.” Stuart stayed quiet, after that. Only muttering something heated under his breath, which John couldn’t hear so he simply decided that he had won their little argument. They turned around a corner and John could already see the gates to the cemetery at the end of the street. Cynthia’s bicycle was indeed parked against the gate.

As the two boys walked among the graves, quietly talking to each other so they wouldn’t bother the dead, they searched for any signs of where Cynthia would be. The cemetery wasn’t large, so it would only be a matter of time before they would spot her.  Slowly the air around them warmed up as the sun crept higher and higher up in the sky, creating shadows on the many graves. John hummed a silent tune to himself and kept his gaze mostly on the ground. Therefore, it wasn’t odd when Stuart spotted her first.

“John!” he shouted suddenly, making him jump. A few people turned their heads towards the pair of them with annoyed looks on their faces. John hurried over to where his friend stood, ignoring them.

“She’s over there. Come on,” Stuart continued, seemingly unaffected by the looks of the strangers around him as he pointed between two rather thick trees. John couldn’t see much further, so he simply nodded and shuffled after Stuart, still looking down, trying to see where he was putting his feet. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stumble over a root of a tree that was creeping up above the ground. Or even a grave.

Suddenly Stuart stopped, causing John to almost walk into him.

“Sorry…” John muttered as Stuart shot him an annoyed look.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, I swear,” he told him, his voice full of disappointment. John simply smirked at him, knowing his friend was only joking. And besides, he knew he was. It wasn’t weird that his aunt always seemed to shout at him that he should wear his glasses.

“Morning, Cyn,” Stuart said to the pretty girl sitting on a gravestone in front of them. He moved to sit on the ground next to her.

“Morning, Stu,” she greeted. The corners of her mouth curled up as she lifted her head to look at John. “And good morning to you, John.”

“Miss Powell,” John replied, making a courteous bow to her, which made her giggle. He moved to sit next to her on the stone, and kissed her cheek.

“You look as beautiful as always.”

“How would you know, you’re not even wearing your glasses.”

“Even a blind man could see your beauty, Miss Powell.”

“So it appears.”

“Ugh... You two make me sick. Now shut up or I’m leaving,” Stuart interrupted them, earning himself a glare from his friend. Cynthia simply reached into her pocket and got out an opened chocolate bar. She broke off a piece and handed it to John.

“Here, this will keep you quiet,” she told him. John faked a laugh, but quickly took the chocolate from her, afraid she might refuse him if he was mean to her.

“Oh, how delicious! Chocolate at nine o'clock in the morning,” Stuart commented sarcastically.

“You want a piece?” John asked him, smirking as offered him his piece of chocolate. Stuart made a disgusted face, sticking his finger down his throat while he faked gagging, earning himself a snicker from Cynthia.

“Really, though. Sometimes I do wonder why I’m even hanging out with you both,” he said with a grin, feeling smug for making Cynthia laugh, after removing his finger from his mouth.

“It’s because you love me,” John told him, blinking rapidly and waving at him flirtatiously. This time it was Stuart’s turn to laugh.

“Ha! If only,” he replied.

“You’ll realise it soon enough,” John said smugly, before popping his piece of chocolate into his mouth. He hummed as it melted on his tongue, the taste of it invading his mouth.

“Speaking of love, isn’t you mum moving in with her new boyfriend today? Or is that next week?” Cynthia asked, changing the subject so she didn’t have to listen to their childish banter any longer and could actually join the conversation. She looked up at John with a curious expression, who sighed, but nodded anyway.

“Yes,” he said as he had swallowed down the chocolate, “if it wasn’t for you two, I’d be helping unpacking now. Or at least have that pervert drooling over me in attempt to get me to like him.” John shuddered visibly at the thought, remembering his mother’s second to last boyfriend. He still had nightmares about that guy. With that disgusting little beard of his.

“Oh, come on, John. He can’t be that bad,” Cynthia said.

“Can’t he?”

“I know the guy. Well, Maureen does, anyway. He’s her English teacher and she tells me he’s actually an alright guy. Pretty cute, too,” Cynthia said, pulling down her grey woollen skirt that came just above her knee. She always felt a little shy when speaking about guys around Stuart and John. Especially ones that were older and she found attractive, knowing John would tease her with it or disagree with her and lecture her on who were and were not attractive.

“Cute?” Stuart asked, one of his eyebrows raised almost comically high.

“Well, according to Maureen, that is. Actually, all the girls find him attractive. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never seen him, though,” Cynthia said, nodding.

“Well, I suppose it might be nice if your new daddy is good-looking. It’s better than having to look at a repulsive face all the time that makes you want to throw up everything you’ve eaten.”

“He’s not my new 'daddy', Stu. And he never will be,” John shot at his friend.

“And I heard he’s into Rock 'n Roll,” Cynthia quickly continued, not wanting John and Stuart to get into an argument. “According Pete he is a big fan of The King.”

“Well, he can have that. I still don’t like him, though.”

“You haven’t even met him yet!” Stuart pointed out.

“I don’t need to. Besides, what’s the point? In a couple of weeks they’ll break up anyway. That is what always happens.”

“Still, John. What if he does stick around?” Stuart asked. Cynthia nodded in agreement.

“Yes, and besides, he might not be that bad. Judging from what I’ve heard. You ought to give him a chance,” she told him. John bit the inside of his cheek. Somewhere he knew his friends were right, but he didn’t want to admit it. Besides, they hadn’t needed to put up with all those other boyfriends that had come and gone. John was sick of it. He had heard all of these stories before. And so far it had brought him nowhere. Of course he wished his mother actually found someone, but he had given up on hoping that this one was the one. He wished he could just ignore it and wait silently until the guy left again.

“And why should I? It didn’t help with the others,” John snapped, hoping to get the others to shut up about it. But Cynthia didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by it.

“Because, John, your mother deserves some happiness too after your father left and you won’t make that easy for her by hating her boyfriends for simply existing,” she explained sternly. John swallowed thickly and stayed quiet at that, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument. The others also seemed to understand John had given in, but for Cynthia the mere knowledge wasn’t enough.

“John, promise me you’ll at least give him a chance. For your mother at least,” she said. John hummed something incomprehensible back at her.

“John!” she pushed on, nudging her friend in the ribs with her elbow.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be nice. But if  I don’t like him after dinner this evening, it’s over,” he agreed, rubbing his side. From the corner of his eye he saw Cynthia smiling smugly to herself, but he didn’t say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

The remaining hours of the day he, Cynthia and Stuart spent by simply having fun. Neither felt the need to bring up the issue of Julia’s new boyfriend moving in, which was a relief. They went out for fish and chips and spent a large chunk of the afternoon at the record store, skimming through music and finding new songs he and Stuart could play with their band. The songs they had picked out weren’t that great, but John didn’t really care. Sure, he had had the dream to break through with this band and become ridiculously famous - like Elvis - but he had given up on that idea long ago. He’d make it on his own, he hoped. The only other member who could actually play was the drummer, Ringo. John and him had spoken about starting something up with just the two of them and hold auditions. Still, it remained a plan that had no chance of ever happening. They weren’t stupid. No one would have them. Besides, there were plenty of rock ‘n roll bands in Liverpool, and neither ever got the chance to become famous, so the chance that they would was minimal. They simply missed something, but neither he nor Ringo knew what exactly.

It was almost dinner time and John was walking home alone. He really didn’t want to go home. No matter what Stuart and Cynthia had said, he still did not feel like meeting his mum’s new boyfriend. They didn’t know what it was like. It didn’t matter whether or not he liked Rock ‘n Roll, never mind that he was good-looking.

John sighed as he saw a strange car parked in front of his house. He tried to kick a rock against it, but missed. Groaning, he looked around for another rock to kick, but he couldn’t find one.

“John! There you are!” A voice suddenly came from behind him, “For a moment I was afraid you’d let your mother down and not show up at all.” John rolled his eyes, before turning towards his aunt with a fake smile.

“Of course not, Mimi. What sort of person do take me for?” he asked her, pretending to be offended.

“You know very well what sort of person I think you are, John. You’ve let me down more than once and don’t pretend it is any other way,” she told him, her voice as stern ever, “And where are you glasses?” John sighed loudly so that his aunt could hear and fished his Buddy Holly glasses out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Reluctantly he put them on as he noticed his aunt was still looking at him. He shot her a funny look, which Mimi simply ignored.

“Good. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, help me get these last two boxes inside. I’m sure your mother will be more than pleased to see you’ve finally decided you’d join us.” She told him as she walked over to the remaining two boxes.

“Yes, Mimi,” John said with faked obedience in his voice, and walked over to her. He picked one box up, and, before turning around and going inside, he pecked her on the cheek. His aunt tutted and ushered him on into the house, but John could see she was hiding a smile.

“John! I thought I had heard your voice. Oh thank you, sweetie. I’ll have George bring it upstairs.” John was greeted as soon as he set one foot in the house. He saw his mother peering into the hallway from the kitchen and point at the box in his hand as she called for said George. An older man, probably in his late thirties appeared in the doorway. He was terribly skinny with high, sharp cheekbones and sunken in cheeks. His dark brown hair was messy and his chin and jaw was covered by a beard. From his lips hung a cigarette. He didn’t say much and simply nodded kindly at John as he took the box from him. Without another word he turned back around and climbed up the stairs.

“Do you want a cuppa?” John heard his mother ask him from the kitchen. He looked away from the strange man who was apparently George and walked into the kitchen. He had expected that his mother’s new boyfriend would be sitting at the breakfast table, sipping coffee, but the kitchen was empty, apart from his mother. It was an utter mess and John was certain his aunt would never set a foot in this kitchen again if Julia didn’t disinfect it at least three times first.

“Thanks, mum,” John said as he sat down at the table, pushing away some old newspapers and things that he had never seen before.“So, who’s George?”

“Friend of Paul’s,” Julia answered, sounding both cheerful and exhausted.

“He doesn’t really say much, does he?” John asked. Julia turned to him, two steaming mugs of tea in her hand, and put one down in front of him.

“No, he doesn’t. Still, he’s a nice guy. Funny, too,” she told him as she sat down opposite him. John thanked her for the tea and took a sip.

“Apparently, he and Paul met in school. They sat together on the bus and they stayed friends ever since. Even when Paul lived in London for nine years.”

"London?” John looked up at his mother with sincere curiosity. He always wanted to go to London. He’s never even left Liverpool. Well, only to visit family in Scotland, but that didn’t count. Not really. It’s not travelling when you take your family with you. He’d love to go to London one day. Perhaps even go to university there, after he’s finished college and passed his classes, which might prove to be tricky, considering his grades and so called ‘disruptive behaviour’.

“… ask him. You might actually learn from him. You two are not that different, really.” John blinked a couple of times at his mother, not having realised she had been talking and now he hadn’t understood at all what she was talking about.

“Sorry? What?”

“I said, you’re not to different. Since he went to London to get famous and rich, too. Like you’re planning on doing. Music is everything to him.” John hummed in acknowledgement and took another sip from his tea. He and the guy were probably nothing alike. It was only a trick to try to get him to like him, but John knew all the tricks and he wouldn't fall for them again.

“So, where is he now, Prince Charming? Putting his white horse in the stables?” John joked. He had hoped to get a rise out of his mum for it, but instead she laughed.

“No. Actually, he’s off to the shops with your sister. He promised to make dinner this evening,” she said. John scoffed. A guy who could cook, no wonder his mum had gone for him. She absolutely hated cooking. Except for baking. She loved baking. If it wasn’t for his aunt, John would have been one chubby kid when he had been younger.

“Anyway, you enjoy your tea. I’m going to help with the last couple of things. Oh and could you at least help by cleaning the kitchen? I’m not too sure what to expect from Paul’s cooking skills, but I want him to have enough space to work with,” Julia asked as she got up. John nodded and drank some more off his tea as he watched her move about in the kitchen, gathering some final things in an empty box, before turning around and heading for the hallway.

“Sure, mum.”

“Thanks, love,” she said as she leaned over to plant a kiss on top of John’s head, “And be nice when Paul comes back. Tell him we’re upstairs if he needs us.” John simply nodded and watched as his mother disappeared out of the kitchen. He waited until he had heard the last step of the stairs creek, before he let his head fall down on the kitchen table with a loud groan.

John didn’t see his mother’s boyfriend before dinner. He was in his room when the doorbell rang and decided someone else would open the door for him. Sure enough, his mother soon walked down the hallway and down the stairs. John suppressed the urge to sneak downstairs to have a quick peek at the mystery guy, who according to Cynthia was kind of cute. Half-heartedly he continued to play some of the new songs he and Stuart had picked out in the store that afternoon. He would not admit, however, to stopping when he heard Julia and him go up the stairs, talking. Neither would he admit that by the sound of it, Paul actually did seem like an alright kind of guy, with the kind way he was talking to his little sister. A lot nicer and funnier than any of the others John had and hadn’t met.

“John is in his room,” he had heard his mother say. “You can meet him at dinner.”

“Don’t you think it would be easier if I met him now? Before dinner, I mean. You know, to avoid a food fight,” the kind-sounding man had asked. His sister had snickered at that and even John found himself smiling and secretly hoping he could meet him before dinner, but Julia said it wasn’t a good idea.

“You’re the boss,” Paul had said and had left it at that. No pushy behaviour, no power-play, no sarcastic jokes, no stupidity, nothing mean about him or Julia. But John didn’t really care, of course. He still didn’t want that man here. And him being a nice guy only meant his mum would be hurt even more when they did finally break up. Besides, perhaps he was just pretending to be nice, but would be the worst person when Julia was not around. Like those stepmothers in those fairy tales. That had to be it, right? Definitely.

He had been too deep in thought about the matter to hear his bedroom door open. It wasn’t until his sister flicked his glasses with her finger, that he noticed her.

“Hey. Don’t flick them, alright. You’re insulting Buddy Holly. You don’t want to do that, do you?” John asked as a greeting, a playful smile on his lips. Jules smiled and shook her head.

“No, I like his music,” she said with a shrug.

“Good girl!” John praised her, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture, making her shriek and try to pull away from him, but instead of letting her go, he grabbed her arm hard enough to make it impossible for her to move away, but not enough to hurt. She continued to struggle, laughing as John put his guitar aside and pulled her onto the bed with him.

“Haha! I got you!” He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her down as she struggled for freedom. John grinned down at her and removed one arm in order to tickle her.

“Stop! Stop! Oh John! Stop, you’re tickling me!” she cried out, struggling even harder against him. John laughed evilly as he continued his assault.

“I’ll stop if you stop struggling,” he told her and almost immediately she stopped. John stopped tickling and released her, pushing his hair out of his face.

“I’m telling mum, you know,” Jules threatened, her face flushed pink and her blond hair messed up.

“No, you’re not,” John said, smirking. She smirked back at him, and at moments like these he saw most clearly that she was his sister. She had that same mischievous look in her eyes. He sat back on the bed and helped her sit down next to him.

“Would you play something for me?” she asked sweetly, pointing at his guitar that lay forgotten next to the bed on the floor.

“Sure. If you tell me what Paul is like.”

***

Jules hadn’t been able to tell him much about Paul. She said she liked him and that he brought her sweets and was actually funny. He didn’t treat her like a child, which she liked, being almost ten now. Still, she hadn’t told him much he didn’t know already, but he hadn’t thought she’d be giving him much new information, anyway, so he was not too disappointed. It was at least good to know that he wasn’t a prick towards her. Not even when in the supermarket and Julia wasn’t anywhere near. She liked him a lot more than any of the other men Julia had introduced to them, for which John was glad. It wasn’t good for a girl her age to have to deal with this shit. He wasn’t sure if he liked the fact that his little sister actually got along with his mother’s new catch, though.

He tried not to think about the man cooking in the kitchen downstairs, as he played a few songs for Jules. He tried not to think about the fact that he would soon be alone with him, his mother and his sister, when his aunt came in to say goodbye. He tried to stay calm and not let his mouth water when the delicious smell of good food swirled up the stairs and into his little bedroom. Still, he felt nervous when his mother called up from below the stairs that dinner was ready.

“Coming, mum!’ John called back at her before finishing the song he had been playing. After Jules had applauded him, he put his guitar aside and bowed to her. They lingered around in his room a little while longer, as not to come across as too eager when they’d be coming down stairs.

After a minute or two, they slowly headed down stairs. He could hear clear voices from the kitchen. A man’s and a woman’s. His mother’s and her boyfriend’s. John swallowed down his nerves and walked into the kitchen with a straight back and his head up, knowing first impressions were everything.

"Ah, John. Jules. Please, sit down,” their mother greeted them as she pointed at a chair at the head of the table next to her. John nodded and sat down. His sister took the chair next to their mother. The man hadn’t looked up from the stove yet, and he had his back turned to John, so John couldn’t see him yet. He looked tall, with very dark brown hair, almost black, cut in such a way that it was just a tad bit too long. It had already started to get grey at the top. As he turned around, John quickly looked away from him and down at his plate. The man put down two pans on the table. John only looked up again as he said his name.

“You must be John. I’m Paul,” the older man said, introducing himself and offering John his hand.  John shook it reluctantly. He didn’t say anything in reply, though. Paul didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by that, however, and simply sat down at the table opposite Julia, who offered them all a glass of wine and apple juice for Jules, before sitting down as well. She smiled apologetically at him, John saw, which he supposed had something to do with the lack of words that were coming out of his mouth. Not that he cared, of course.

“It surely smells delicious, Paul. Doesn’t it, John?” Julia asked him, but John simply hummed. Julia kicked him from underneath the table.

“Yes! Yeah, delicious,” John quickly said, glaring at his mother, who simply ignored him.

“Thank you,” Paul said, a light blush on his cheeks, but it could have been the heat from the stove.

John had to admit that the guy had something feminine about him. He had large, hazel puppy eyes with perfectly shaped eyebrows, which John was certain he plucked, and pink, pouty lips.  His cheeks were chubby and rounded as he smiled. His features were delicate and even from this distance John noticed how ridiculously long his eyelashes were. Although he was supposedly already in his late thirties or very early forties, the guy had barely any wrinkles, except for around his eyes, making him look younger than he was. John supposed some might call him cute and pretty and handsome. When Paul sat back down and turned to look at him, John noticed he had been staring. He didn’t avert his eyes, however. Hoping it would make him uncomfortable. Obviously it didn’t, for Paul simply smiled at him and asked him a question.

“Sorry, what did you say?” John asked him, not having heard.

“I said: Julia tells me you’re in art college,” Paul repeated, not in the least bit bothered by John’s behaviour. John sighed, but nodded. He didn’t feel like talking about school. Everybody always thought it was a big deal. Even his classmates thought it was a big deal, which it wasn’t. At least, to John it was not. The teachers didn’t understand him or his art, so why bother, right? He was going to be famous, anyway. Someday. Soon.

“You enjoying yourself there?” Paul asked. John blinked a couple of times, being taken-aback by the question.

“I suppose so, yes. Could be better. Could be worse. Beats maths, I’d say,”  He answered. Paul nodded at that.

“I know what you mean. I always hated school. Teachers are the worst aren’t they?” He laughed, but John merely rolled his eyes.

“I like my teacher,” Jules brought into the conversation, but John ignored her, cutting in before Paul could direct his attention to her.

“Are you trying to relate to me so that I will like you?” John asked bluntly, making both his mother and Paul look up with surprised expressions.

“What makes you think that? Nobody likes school. I consider myself authority enough to say that, seeing as I’ve spent most of my life there.”

“I know the tricks, you know. Every adult does it. It’s always the same. Besides, you’re a teacher yourself. Why would you work at a school and become a teacher when you fucking hate it?”

“John! Mind your language, please!” Julia shot at him as she nodded at his sister, kicking him again underneath the table. John simply ignored her. So did Paul.

“I suppose I’m enough of a masochist, then,” he said playfully, turning towards Julia to wink at her. John didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing and simply sat there, baffled.

“Now, who want to try some of my cooking. I’ve been told it’s good and no one died of it yet, I assure you.”

John didn’t say much during dinner, trying to keep his word to Cynthia as best as he could. He noticed his mother giving him an angry eye, but he didn’t care. He simply ignored her and Paul and silently ate his dinner as he let them talk to each other, knowing that as long as everyone survived dinner, Cyn couldn’t nag him about his behaviour. The food was fine. Simple potatoes with peas and chicken. Nothing too special, but John had to admit it tasted pretty good. Better than expected certainly, and much better than his mother’s cooking. He tried to eat slowly, however, not wanting to let either his mother or Paul know he was enjoying it. He simply ate it and stared at his plate, looking up to study the new man’s face every so often or to say something to his sister.

John couldn’t get over how the guy looked. So feminine. It was weird, but John couldn’t say he truly hated it. But if it wasn’t for the fact that he was holding his mother’s hand right now, he would have sworn his guy was queer, had he seen him walking in the street.

“Anyway, how was your day, John?” John suddenly heard his mother ask him. He dragged his eyes away from the other man and turned to look at his mother, who was looking at him intensely, her gaze digging right through him.

“It was fine,” he answered quickly, knowing better than to be smart when she was looking at him like that. He continued to eat as his mother continued to ask him questions, hoping she would stop soon and leave him be.

“Is Stuart still planning on going abroad?”

“Not sure. Haven’t asked him.”

“He should, you know. Go to Paris or Germany.”

“I’ll tell him that.”

“Or London at least. He could learn a thing or two over there. Is he still into abstract art?”

“Yes, mum.”

“You should ask him to help you with that school assignment.”

“Yeah, mum, I will. You sound like Mimi.”

“John?” his mother asked. John looked up from his plate, swallowing the piece of potato he had been chewing on. She was looking at him with a slight grin on her face. John knew that grin. He used it too. Slightly afraid, he waited for her to continue her question.

“Paul knows a lot about art as well. Maybe he can have a look and help you. He is an English teacher…” she suggested overly sweetly. John scoffed at the mere thought.

“Fuck no!” he said, laughing, before he knew what he was doing.

“John!” His mother gasped loudly at that. John simply shrugged. Now that he’d fucked up, what the hell, right?

“What? Just because he’s your boyfriend, doesn’t mean I have to like him, do I? You’ll break up within a week anyway. It’s not worth the time. And neither is it yours,” he told her.

“John!”

“What? It’s true. That what always happens.”

Julia groaned and buried her head in his hands. John felt his throat tighten. Still, he wasn’t going to waste his time on a guy who’d be gone soon.

“John, how-” Julia started, but John interrupted her.

“No. I’m not going to do it. I don’t care what you say, nor what Cyn says,” he said, looking from his mother to Paul and back again, deciding to fuck it all. No going back now! His sister was staring at him with huge eyes. His mother just held her head in her hands and looked down at her plate.  John could see her shoulders going up and down with her heavy breathing as she tried to control herself. Paul leaned over to her to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she pushed him away.

“John, go upstairs,” Paul ordered. John stared at him, not believing he was telling him what to do.

“No fucking way. This is my house. You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do!” he told him angrily, planting his hands down on the table with force, causing the silverware and the plates to jump and clatter. Jules jumped in her seat, still staring at him with huge eyes.

“You’re upsetting your mother and sister. Go upstairs,” Paul continued, seemingly not bothered by John’s words.

“Oh, I’m upsetting them! Well, if you weren’t here there wouldn’t be anything to be upset about.”

“John Lennon-!” Paul started, his voice low and loud, as if he was talking to a student misbehaving at school, but Julia came between both.

“John, please go upstairs,” she simply said. John stared at her. She was massaging her temples and looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“But-”

“Upstairs!” she suddenly screamed, making everyone jump in their seats. Shooting one last foul look at Paul, John got up and stormed off upstairs to his bedroom, where he slammed the door tightly shut. He could hear his sister starting to sob downstairs.

* * *

It was completely silent in the kitchen, save for Jules’ soft sobbing and the loud music coming from John's room in protest. Paul was looking at the doorway through which John had disappeared. When Julia had told him her son was trouble, he hadn't expected dinner to go quite this way. Although, now he wondered just what he had expected. Perhaps fewer tears. He sighed deeply and silently got up from his chair. He knelt down next to Jules and carefully wrapped his arms around her, slowly as not to startle her. He could feel her relax in his arms and soon she gave into him, allowing herself to lay her head on his shoulder and wrap her own arms around him as she softly cried into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Paul whispered at Julia, looking up to meet her eyes.

“No, I’m sorry,” Julia sighed from the seat next to them. Paul shook his head.

"No. It's okay. He simply needs some time," he told her gently, his voice soft and quiet. He continued to rock Jules softly in his arms and tightened his arms around her as he felt her slowly calming down.

"Come on. We almost finished dinner, anyway," he said as he helped her up on her feet. Jules nodded and let herself be let to his mother, who got up too.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," Julia said, and Paul let her talk as he moved them both out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jules quietly told them she was going to go upstairs to her room, and both Julia and Paul nodded. Julia told her she’d be coming to her later before it was time to go to bed. Jules nodded and stumbled up the stairs to her own bedroom.

"It's not true," Julia spoke after a little while.

"What isn't?" Paul asked as they sat down on the couch. Julia shrugged as Paul shuffled closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders this time and pulling her against his chest.

"About the other men. What John said. About them leaving. About you not being worth the time because they keep leaving anyway. It's not true," she spoke very softly and Paul had to concentrate to hear her.

"I know. And I wouldn't even care if it was true. I'm not leaving."

"I know you're not."

"I'm not them. I'm right here and I'm not leaving."

"Thank you." Gently he kissed her temple.

"I shouldn't even have reacted this way. I knew he'd be acting difficult. He always does," Julia spoke after a while. The music from John's room had stopped, so Paul had turned on the television, hoping it would relieve the tension in the house a little. He drank some the tea he had made for him and Julia and turned to face her.

"He just needs some time, Julia. It will be fine eventually. Having to meet someone who's going to be taking over such a large part of your life isn't easy. Believe me, I know," he said, trying to sooth her. Julia smiled at him, nodding.

"I know that. I guess I just sort of hoped it would  all fall into place this time. It's not easy being a single mother. Not even with my sister's help. Especially not with a kid like John. I love him, though. And I wouldn't have him any other way, but... it's difficult. Sometimes I do wish he was more like his sister..." she explained softly, rubbing her temples again.

"Do you want your glasses?" Paul asked her kindly. She nodded. He reached over into a drawer of one of the side tables and got out a pair of glasses, which he handed to Julia. She thanked him with a simple kiss and Paul smiled.

"I love you," she said and Paul smiled even wider.

"And I you," he answered, as he watched her put on her glasses. "It will work out between me and John. Eventually, that is. We all just need some time."

"I do hope so," Julia answered him, before kissing him again, her hand cupping Paul’s cheek.

 ***

The next morning Paul woke up to the smell of spring, a tickling underneath his nose and his arms wrapped around another body. Keeping his eyes closed, he simply followed the lovely scent with his nose. He smiled as he realised it was Julia's hair that smelled so good. He sweetly kissed the back of her head with an approving moan. The body in his arms moved and the sound of happy giggling filled his ears.

"Good morning, Paul," she greeted him, her voice lower and more croaky than normally but also sexier. He kissed her again.

"Morning, luv," he said, his own voice not doing that much better. Julia pulled away a little so she could turn to face him. As he felt her lips against his, he slowly opened his eyes, looking straight into Julia's light brown eyes. Her curling red hair circled her beautiful face.

"Even when you've just woken up you look absolutely stunning," Paul sighed happily, and Julia giggled as she curled up into Paul's arms, burying her face in his chest and kissing him there.

"Says the guy who could make women faint in his arms with the simplest of smiles and a promising look with his bedroom eyes. I bet your students throw themselves at you!" she joked, placing little butterfly kisses all over his smooth chest, her hands moving up, over the man's sides to join her lips. Paul hummed happily at that and kissed the top of her head, encouraging her.

"Wish I could wake up like this every morning," he muttered, gently sliding his fingers in her hair. Julia looked up at him with a dreamy smile.

"Now you can," she remarked. Paul pretended to think about that.

"I suppose you're right. Lucky me." He grinned, before cupping her cheek in his hand and bringing their lips together for a lazy, morning kiss. Julia moaned as Paul began to lightly nibble at her bottom lip.

"I'm so glad we've decided to do this," she murmured and Paul nodded in agreement, wrapping his arms tighter around the woman in his arms and rolling them over so she was lying on top of him, a leg between his. She giggled as she felt his semi-erect cock press against her thigh.

"Aren't you excited." She giggled and Paul raised her head again for another kiss, which Julia gave to him more than gladly.

***

John was sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast when he heard stumbling above him, which meant his mother and Paul had supposedly woken up. His throat went dry at the thought, knowing perfectly well what his mother thought of him after the evening before. He had promised her he'd give him a shot. He'd promised Cyn, and he knew she was not going to be happy when she'd find out what happened. And she would find out. She always did. But he'd deal with her later. Right now the footsteps descending down the stairs were more important. For a moment the thought of fleeing into the living room where his little sister was listening to the radio crossed his mind, but he decided against it. If there was going to be another argument, it would be better if she wasn't there. She'd seen enough last evening.

"Good morning, John," John heard Paul greet him from the doorway. He didn't sound particularly angry, which made John feel ill at ease. He took a sip of his tea to soothe his throat, before looking up at the man now standing by the stove to get himself a cup of tea as well.

"Where's Julia?"  John asked, his voice flat.

"Still in bed. She's still tired from yesterday, so I told her to stay in a bit longer," Paul answered him kindly, walking over to the fridge for the milk. John didn't say anything in return. He wanted to say something snappy, but his throat still felt too dry to get it to come across the way he wanted. Instead he turned back to his breakfast and grabbed the morning paper to read in an attempt to ignore the other man. Paul didn't say anything anymore either and sat down opposite John with his milk and tea.

"Anything interesting?" he asked when John didn't acknowledge his presence at the table. John didn't answer.

"Listen, John," Paul tried, sighing and pushing the paper down on the table to catch John's attention, "I know you don't like me. I know you'd rather have me walk outside right now and get hit by a car than have me sleep in the same bed as your mother, but that's okay."

"Okay?! How is any of that okay?" John looked up at the other man with large eyes, not believing his ears. This wasn't how this was supposed to go! Not at all! He was supposed to be angry, not okay with John fantasising about how he'd die!

"Yes, it is! I know what it's like. I don't care if you'd want my head on a plate, or dance on my grave. I've felt the same way when I was younger."

"This isn't about you," John cut in, taking a loud bite off his toast.

"Can we at least act like decent human beings around each other? For your mother? You don't have to like me, but I don't want us to be fighting the entire time. Not only for your mother, but also not for your sister, you understand me?" Paul asked him, his voice sounding firm. John looked up at him, straight into his eyes. The guy looked completely serious, which was actually a rather scary look on him,  even though he had a baby face complete with doe eyes.

"I'm not going to like you," John remarked, being used to people looking at him like that after the last years of school and his life-long relationship with his aunt.

"I don't expect you to. But let's simply tolerate each other-"

"Until you're gone," John butt in, hoping to throw the man off, but to his surprise the man only smiled.

"Until I'm gone," he repeated, sealing the deal. John bit his lip, thinking the offer over.

"We won't have to have anything to do with each other, John. We'll simply live next to each other, in a way," Paul added, trying to convince him and John nodded.

"Fine," he agreed, be he still sounded unsure. Paul smiled at that and sat back in his chair, taking the paper, which lay forgotten on the table, from John and opening it to read it himself as he picked up his mug of tea to drink. John stared at him, his mind not fully processing what just happened.

"And besides. I might even turn out to be not that bad," Paul muttered, still grinning smugly. John sighed and took another bite from his toast in defeat, knowing the man was going to be a tough one to get rid of. He was good. Almost as good as John himself. Almost.

 


	3. Chapter 3

As the days went by, John and Paul mostly lived next to each other, like they had agreed. John stayed out for most of the day and Paul worked hard at the school he was teaching at. Most days they only crossed paths at dinner time or in the evenings. Whenever they were both home during the day, they mostly stayed in separate rooms: John in his bedroom and Paul in the garden or the living room. As it happened, Paul proved to enjoy the outside and John even caught him doing some gardening once, although his mother seemed to take care of the garden mostly. His sister moved between the two, liking them both. She often questioned John about why he didn't like Paul, but he would mostly brush it off, saying she'd understand when she was older, which earned him some foul looks. She'd even kicked him once, before rushing out his bedroom and to the garden where Paul was reading a book to be save. She was a quick learner, John had to give her that.

"I know why you don't like him, John. I'm not stupid. But he's not like the other guys. He's nice!" she would sometimes say.  John would shrug and tell her he knew his kind. Men weren't simply 'nice'.

"No Johnny, that's your kind," she had told him once, making John laugh. She could always make him laugh.

But if he was completely honest he wasn't certain himself why he hated him. And if he did at all. Over the last couple of weeks he had not noticed anything that was that bad about him. Sure, he could be loud sometimes and he and his mother had arguments, but there hadn't been one argument that hadn't ended up in the bedroom and John truly did not want to think about what went on in there at those moments. But most of the time he was actually alright. His sister adored him and he seemed to adore her, playing with her and helping with her school work, as well as taking her to Blackpool to have fun and go to the fair, even when his mother had told her “no”.

He was funny, kind, talkative, gentle. He even played piano. He was a talented singer, who had even written his own songs when he was younger, or so his mother had told him. John could sometimes hear him play softly downstairs on their piano, singing songs. Of course John tried not to listen, no matter how much his little sister seemed to like the man’s playing and tried to make him. He could not afford to give into him. Not now. It wouldn't be long now. It couldn't be long now. But every passing day he grew less certain of that.

Even though Paul wasn't as bad as John had thought him to be, it was still hard for him to hold himself back. If it wasn't for his sister, he was certain he would’ve had started plenty of fights already. It was because of her his mother hadn't send him to live with Mimi for a while, which happened when he turned out to be too much for her to handle for a while. Julia was a good mother, but she was never very good at dealing with an angry John. She wasn't used to standing up to him and holding her ground. She cared too much for him to do so. John supposed he couldn't blame her. He could imagine it wasn't easy to raise two children on your own. Especially not him. He knew he was trouble. He had been told that more than often by his teachers. But his aunt could. She cared for him, yes, but she was firm and believed in discipline, something his mother lacked. His mother was too much of a rebel herself to punish him, which wasn't the case with Mimi, who was more than happy to pound some sense and common-knowledge into him whenever he was around. When the occasional good-manners slipped in too, she would beam with pride.

Still, John loved his aunt, but he was glad he hadn't needed to spend a night or two there this week. John wasn't sure if it had something to do with Paul. He hoped not, but he couldn't deny the guy had a way of giving him looks that made him feel guilty without having to lecture him. It was weird and it sometimes creeped him out, but his mother and sister didn't seem to mind the lack of outburst and mischievous behaviour. It puzzled John, of course, how Paul could do that to him. But he supposed it had more to do with his mother and sister, since he was still his old, annoying and unmannered self whenever they weren’t around.

"Fucked any girls lately, Lennon?" Stuart asked as he nudged him painfully in the ribs, dragging John away from his thoughts and doodles in his notebook and back in his seat in the classroom. "Or has your devilish stepfather removed your prick?"  

John shot his friend and angry glare, nudging him back, twice as hard and making the older boy wince in his seat.

"Fuck, John. No way I nudged you that hard!" he hissed softly at John, making him snicker at his friend's pain and sorrow.

"Prove your innocence, Sutcliffe," he retorted quietly as Stuart continued to curse.

"Well, you're insides aren't bleeding, for once!"

"You're such a pussy."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am n- listen, I'm not playing this game!" Stuart told him, turning away from his friend and fixing his gaze on the board.

"You are, though," John teased. It stayed quiet for a while after that, the only sound remaining being that of pens on paper and the sound of the teacher mumbling his nonsense. For a second John actually thought he had won. That is, until the bell rang and Stuart got up from his chair, collected his things and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Am not!" he hissed, before grabbing his stuff and running out of the classroom before John had any time to answer.

"Mr Sutcliffe, no running!" the teacher called out after him, but the boy simply continued running like an idiot as he tried to push through the crowd that had gathered at the door, making John laugh as he too grabbed his stuff and followed his friend out. It was lunch time! Meaning, fish and chips and good music!

***

When John finally caught up with Stuart, he smacked him on the back of his head, before offering a cigarette as a token of peace. The older lad accepted it with a huff and together they cycled to the fish and chips shop where they would meet with the others. Once there, they locked their bikes against one of the windows of the shop and walked in, where they were greeted by Cynthia, Maureen and Ringo.

“There you finally are! Come on! I’m bloody starving,” Ringo exclaimed at the sight of them, grabbing his belly for dramatic effect. Maureen shook her and crossed her arms.

“Well, you could’ve eaten the breakfast I made you this morning,” she said. Ringo smiled apologetically at her and kissed her cheek. Maureen sighed and muttered something about idiotic boys before wrapping an arm around her boyfriend.

“Well, we’re here now to save you from your starving death!” John grinned at his friend and patted his back, before walking over to Cynthia to kiss her cheek. Before he had even a hand on her shoulder, she had already turned away from him, however.

“Ah, come on, Cyn.” John whined, leaning in and making kissing sounds with his lips. She tutted and pushed him away.

“What did I do?!”

“You know what you did. You didn’t listen to me and now you’re having trouble with your mum and stepdad and I’m not doing anything until you apologize.” Cynthia told him sternly, crossing her arms just like Maureen had done. He could hear Ringo chuckling at the parallel. Bastard.

“I told you I was sorry-” John started but was quickly interrupted.

“Not to me! To your stepfather!”

“He’s not my bloody stepfather and no way!” John made a disgusted face, making the others snicker, but not Cyn, who continued to glare at him.

“Alright now. You two can bicker some more once we’ve gotten something to eat. I’m afraid Ringo will starve to death if we don’t get any chips in him soon.” Stuart laughed, placing a hand on John’s shoulder to pull him away from Cynthia. John simply shrugged and followed Stuart’s lead.

“You’re paying for me, Lennon. To make it up to me,” Cynthia called after John, who waved his hand at her to let her know he’d heard her.

“Can you imagine what it would be like if they were actually dating?” Ringo laughed at Maureen, who snickered at the idea of it.

“All I can say is that I imagine something with lots of smart bickering and sickening moments of closeness.” She said, making Ringo laugh along with her.

“You know, I was more picturing some kind of disturbing-looking human with two constantly bickering or kissing heads.” he whispered at her, before stepping over to the others who were already ordering.

***

The five of them sat together on a stage that the school used for small performance evenings. Most of the days the room was locked for students, but of course John had nicked a key off a janitor, so now they sat there whenever they could meet up together during lunch. The hardest part was getting Ringo and Maureen in, who didn’t go to college here and were mostly met with second glances. Still, they hadn’t been caught once!

“John! That’s my fish!” Cynthia exclaimed, gaping at John who just swallowed a piece of her fish. The man grinned at her and shrugged.

“I paid for it. So technically it is still mine,” he said. Cynthia rolled her eyes and moved her food further away from her friend, before continuing her chat with Maureen. John smirked in triumph when she didn’t say anything else. He turned to look at Stuart who sat with his bass on his lap, practicing. Ringo was drumming with his fingers on the wooden floor of the stage, using his foot that was dangling over the side, to tap against the front of the stage as backbeat. John’s guitar lay discarded behind him. Food was much more important right now. Reaching over, he tried to nick another piece of fish from Cynthia, but she quickly batted his hand away. Staring back at his own food, he reluctantly picked up another chip. He wished he had more fish, but he had already finished his. He eyed Stuart, who was far too engrossed in his playing to notice him looking and saw he still had some fish left.

“Mind if I take that, Stu?” John asked, pointing at the man’s fish. Stuart hummed his approval and shifted his food towards John, who eagerly took it. He could see Ringo look hungrily at the extra food John had managed to get and licked his lips. John doubted Ringo hadn’t eaten Maureen’s breakfast. There was no way in hell he was going to let anything go to waste, especially when he was this bleeding hungry. John ripped Stuart’s fish in half and offered Ringo the other half, who took it with a lick across his lips.

“Thanks mate,” he said, digging right in.

“So anyway. Me and Stu sought out some more songs for the band to play. Thought we might want to go over the next practice. What do you say, Richie?” John asked as he took a bite of the fish.

“Yeah, even got some B-sides. Like John likes,” Stuart added, looking up from his clumsy playing. Honestly, if he wasn’t John’s best mate he’d be out already, but John had faith in him. And what John wanted, happened, no matter what. At least the poor bastard fucking tried.

“Sure. When’s practice?” Ringo said, forcing some more fish down his throat.

“Next week. Friday,” Stuart replied, reaching out for a chip from his plate, which he had given John.

“And everyone will be there?”

“They better be!” John said. “We’ve got that gig Sunday. Can’t go onstage without even a bloody set list.” Stuart hummed in agreement.

“Cyn? You’re coming to watch us, right?” John asked.

“At least tell me why you didn’t even try!” Cynthia demanded out of nowhere, not answering John’s question. The latter groaned in frustration and put his food down.

“Come on, Cyn. We’re talking about something important here. Besides, I-” John started, before getting interrupted again.

“No, you’re not. You asked if I was coming to your gig next week. You already know I am. Hence, the subject is not important. Now, answer me.” Cynthia shot at him, turning herself to look him dead in the eyes.

“I did try! At first! It’s not my fault he was being an arse and continued to ask me stupid questions about school. The guy is a teacher! How could he _possibly_ not like going to school. Every one of those sadistic bastards do. If only to ruin our fucking lives,” John told her, his voice raised and stern. Maureen backed away a little, grasping Ringo’s hand for her safety. Cynthia didn’t so much as blink.

“Well, obviously you didn’t try hard enough did you?” she challenged.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Cyn. I’m sorry I’m sick and tired of sucking up to people who aren’t worth my time. I’m sorry I’m sick of being let down and I’m sorry for not trying harder to get that ponce to like me.”

“Why don’t you like him? Me and Maureen thought he’d be great for your mother. _And_ you for that matter,” Cynthia said, stealing some chips from John’s plate to make up for her lost fish. John didn’t even seem to notice.

“You don’t understand,” he simply stated. “Now, would you please let it go?”  

Cynthia blinked at him a couple of times. John didn’t say ‘please’. At least not when he meant it. Apparently it was harder on him than she had thought. She looked down at the floor and nodded.

“I- I know. I don’t understand. I’m sorry,” she said, leaning over to kiss John’s cheek to strengthen her apology. John smiled at her.

“Good of you to realise,”  he replied, as a way of accepting it.

*** 

For the rest of lunch and the first period after, they simply talked and played a little, the girls sometimes singing along to their playing. It was fun and John could see Cynthia felt bad about her behaviour. He continued to smile at her to let her know it was fine and he hoped she noticed. Stuart was looking at him with a weird face though, obviously not being used to him sucking up to another person that much. But Cynthia was worth it. He knew the others joked about them being a couple. And often they’d play along. But in a way they were. In a unconventional way. John was certain though that if he wasn’t queer he would have slept with her. More than just that one time, of course. John loved her. Like a friend. A really close friend. Maybe even closer than Stuart in a way. No, in a different way.

Once second period was about to start, though. They decided to call it quits. Mostly because Cynthia had class that hour and she never felt good about skipping. Especially not when she was still in the school.

“Hey, John. You wanna go out tonight?” Stuart asked as they all got up and collected their stuff. John searched around in his bag for the keys, only looking up once he found them.

“Sure mate. I’d do anything to keep away from McQueer at home,” he said. Cynthia shot him a look. She couldn’t help it, but John didn’t particularly mind. At least she wasn’t harassing him about it anymore. He could deal with the looks.

“Is he, then? Queer?” Ringo asked, removing himself from Maureen’s lips.

“Dunno,” John said with a grin, “He sure looks like it.”

“You should ask him,” Stuart suggested, smirking, and John laughed and nodded at his friend.

“Will do. Anyway, where do you wanna go tonight?” John asked, grabbing his guitar and bag from the floor.

“Thought we’d check out The Cavern. Heard there’s this new group playing there. Might as well see if we can learn anything from them,” Stuart answered, grabbing his bass and bag as well. “We still need to take this back to the music room.”  

John nodded. “Sure. Any good? The band, that is?”

“Must be. To get into The Cavern.”

“Alright then. Richie? You coming?”

“Sure. Lad’s night out sounds great right now.”

“Well, that settles it then,” John concluded with a smile. He was already looking forward to that evening. He needed to get drunk and forget everything for a while. Perhaps he could even crash at Stuart’s place. If Stuart would let him, of course. And didn’t pick up a bird.

***

When John came home that afternoon after school, it was quiet in the house. His mum was nowhere to be seen and his sister wasn’t yet home from school. John kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat, not bothering to hang it up or put it away, and stumbled into the kitchen to get a cup of tea. He filled the teapot with water, put it on the stove and began searching around the kitchen for something edible, while he waited for the water to boil. He found an apple. Groaning that there wasn’t anything else in, he took a bite of it and chewed it angrily. He hated it when he was craving something nice to eat and there wasn’t anything around. Except bloody apples of course. John wondered why they weren’t extinct yet. What with them eating them all the time. How many of them could there be?!

John nearly dropped the fucking thing, though, when he suddenly heard the piano in the living room. Luckily, he caught it just in time and smiled proudly at himself. He took another bite and quietly listened to the music filling the air. It wasn’t anything he recognised, but it sounded good. Different, for sure. But good. The melody was sweet and simple, but interesting because of the timing. It wasn’t straight forward, but not that farfetched. Just… nice. John quickly pushed the thought away and took another angry bite from his apple once he realised it must be Paul McCartney playing the tune. His suspicions were confirmed when he could hear the guy's voice singing along with the tune. The lyrics were even cuter and sweeter than the melody itself, but John didn’t particularly mind that much.

Out of nowhere the kettle began to boil, interrupting the pretty sounds with its high-pitched whistle. Quickly, John turned off the stove and took the kettle off to make it stop. He cursed once he realised the other man had stopped playing. He whined at the knowledge that he must know now that someone was home. Probably he would’ve drawn the conclusion that it was him right away. Paul was great at deducing those things, curse him.

John let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding when Paul resumed his playing, singing along still. At least the guy wasn’t shy. Still cursing to himself, John made his tea and ate the rest of his apple, before throwing the core away. Taking a careful sip, John thought about what to do next. He was curious, damn him, about Paul’s playing. He was dying to take a look and see what the man was up to. He wondered if he had written the song himself or if John simply hadn’t heard of it at all. But on the other hand, he simply wanted to go upstairs, lock himself into his room till dinner and fuck off to the Cavern as soon as possible to get the twat out of his head. Still, his curiosity won out in the end and John sneaked over to the living room.

Carefully, John peaked around the corner to see indeed Paul sitting at the piano. The piano stood against the same wall the door was in, but further away, so Paul wasn’t likely to spot John unless he turned his head far enough and focused on the door. Still, not wanting to get caught, John knelt down and sat on his knees as he spied on the other man, making it harder for him to spot him. The older man’s eyes were closed as he played the song and hummed along this time, not pronouncing the words, simply humming along with the chords he was playing. The song sounded even better now that it wasn’t muffled by the walls. John noticed some pieces of paper and an old notebook on the piano with a pen, a pencil and an eraser.

When Paul stopped playing to scribble something on one of the pieces of paper and played the same bit again, John knew Paul had written this song himself. He couldn’t help but feel impressed. John had tried writing his own stuff, but songs were so much harder to write than any of the poetry he normally wrote. If you could even call it that. According to his teachers you couldn’t. Well, fuck them! Still though, if McFuckface could do it, why not him! The only problem was, he didn’t know where to start. With the music or the lyrics? And if with the lyrics, how did you know the timing and everything? What if it didn’t fit at all. And if you started with the music, how could you know it would fit the lyrics you would think of later? Or should you do both at once? But how? John couldn’t figure it out. But maybe if he tried harder. Obviously, it couldn’t be that difficult.

John listened closely to the music. Was it easier to write with a piano? John couldn’t play the piano. He barely knew how to play the guitar. He couldn’t even tune the damn thing! Sighing, John watched Paul’s hands as they moved over the keys. The guy made it look so easy. As if he had done it since he was a baby. The thought of a baby playing guitar made John chuckle. He had to bite the inside of his cheek not the laugh any louder and give himself away.

He had only just stood up again, planning to leave, when he suddenly heard Paul stop singing and say something to him as he continued playing.

“Do you like it, John?” he asked, a smug tone in his voice. John’s eyes widened at the question and his throat got dry. He didn’t know what to say. His body didn’t even know how to move anymore. No matter how much he willed his body to run away and to his room, he couldn’t move.

“I wrote it myself.” Paul added and John could see him smirking. The bloody git. Finally, his mind won over his body and without saying a word he quickly vanished out of the doorway and ran upstairs. Locking his room, John didn’t come out until dinner time.

* * *

Paul sighed and looked down at his hands resting on the ivory keys of the piano, as he listened to John running back up to his bedroom. He knew he had made a mistake with speaking up. It had been obvious the lad hadn’t wanted him to know he was there. It didn’t matter Paul had noticed him almost immediately in the doorway. After having grown up with his younger brother Michael, he had learned all the tricks of catching people sneaking off or spying on him or hiding things from him. It proved a handy skill being a teacher. But he was so used to calling people out on it, that he hadn’t even thought twice about it. Until John had rushed off.

He had hoped their mutual love of music would have been an easy way for them to get to know each other and grow closer, but if John continued to refuse to listen to him or run away whenever he was caught peeking, Paul doubted that would happen. Over the last few days their relationship hadn’t grown much better, even if John didn’t try to fight him every chance he got. But at least the fact that John had now come in to have a look, even if it had been secretly, proved that maybe there was a slight chance that things would change soon. Maybe, now that his curiosity was triggered and he knew Paul had seen him anyway, he’d let his guard down a bit. Maybe he’d let that curiosity take over and ask him about music. Maybe he’d even ask him for his help or simply discuss music. Perhaps it had been good that Paul had let John know he had seen him. Maybe, once they got talking about the music, everything else would come naturally.

Paul hoped so.

The tension in the house didn’t do many wonders for his and Julia’s relationship. They were fighting more than they had been before. Sometimes even about the stupidest things and if Paul was honest with himself, he was growing fed up with it. Even the make-up sex was becoming repetitive. Perhaps they just needed a break from it all. Maybe he should take her out again. They hadn’t gone on a date since he had moved in almost a week ago. They could go out for dinner Saturday. Jules could stay over at Mimi’s if she wanted. Or if John would stay in, John could look after her. But most likely he would go out again or stay over at his friend’s place. The one who lived on his own? Stuart? Was that his name? But again, if he was going out and Jules could go to Mimi’s, he and Julia would have the whole house to themselves. And that did sound appealing.

Grinning, Paul reached over to grab his acoustic guitar that was leaning against the piano and put it in his lap. He placed his fingers in the right setting and started playing a French-like tune while thinking of a nice little place he could take Julia. Soon, however, his mind drifted to when they’d be home again and he felt himself get a little warmer at the thought. He figured he’d take her to the couch and put on a nice little record to listen to. Maybe they would dance a little. Or simply sit there, talking and laughing and touching…. until he would make his move and he’d kiss her. Sweetly, but persistently, making his intentions well-known, before allowing his hands to wander, to touch and fumble with her clothes and skin, making her more and more excited and making her moan softly into his mouth. And after that he’d take her upstairs and- no! They had the whole house to themselves, they could do it right there, like when they were teenagers, but without the clumsiness. Or with it. The clumsiness had something appealing about it.

Paul smiled to himself and gave himself a mental pat on the back for his good idea and continued to play as he thought about Saturday. It’d be good for the both of them. Since he moved in they hadn’t even had a full hour for themselves. They needed this.

After a while his mind started to get occasionally dragged back to John. It had been almost an hour since John had ran up to his room and Paul hadn’t heard anything from him since then. His fingers were starting to hurt from the strings digging into his skin, since he wasn’t used to playing for longer periods of time anymore since he had stopped performing with his last band. He put his guitar down and softly walked to the bottom of the stairs. He held his breath and listened closely, but he couldn’t hear anything from John’s bedroom.

For a second he thought about going up and ask him if he was okay, to let him know he wasn’t mad or anything for spying on him. But as soon as the thought had entered his brain, it had left again. It would only make things worse for John. If Paul could read John well enough, he was more bothered with the fact that he had been caught and Paul knew he had been listening, than whether or not Paul would have felt bothered by him spying on him.

Paul walked into the kitchen to have another cup of tea. It was best to leave John alone for a while or else he’d just get angry. Paul didn’t want Julia to come home to an angry John. He needed her relaxed and calm for their date Saturday.

Still, he sort of started to like John. For some ridiculous reason, he sort of liked it that he tried to challenge him and tease him. He liked their little arguments and he liked the fact that John didn’t take his word on everything and wouldn’t stop questioning him, unlike all of his students who thought that because he was the teacher, he was always right (which he mostly was, but that was beside the point). He liked the exchange of words, the banter and the falling-out’s. He enjoyed them, however rare they were since their private conversation two weeks ago. He enjoyed the challenge of proving his point or simply making John speechless.

But he also liked it the other way around. He liked hearing John’s sometimes well thought-out arguments and his opinions on stuff. He liked how John would sometimes manage to change his mind, even though Paul would never admit that he had. He liked it when John would take his words and twist them around and leave him lost for words for a second. Or when he’d say something or do something that left him tongue-tied. He hadn’t had that with anyone ever. He had had arguments and heated discussions, but none had he enjoyed as much as the ones with John. But most of all he liked the competition. Not fighting for the win or fighting to prove John wrong, but simply for the sake of the competition. It was something he hadn’t felt as much before. In a way it was as if they pulled that part out of each other, as if they needed each other to do that. It was odd, but exciting.

But he also liked John for himself. The guy was talented; he could hear that whenever John played guitar in his bedroom or was trying to amuse his sister. Besides, he had seen the scattered pieces of paper with poems and doodles on them. Paul liked to see him with his sister. He was different then. Less angry, more playful. He was an idiot and a goofy one. He had a good sense of humour, sometimes hard, mean and rude, but sometimes clever and subtle, or simply silly and witty. He was rebellious, always searching for the limits and stretching them, seeing how far he could go and take one step further. It was something Paul had always condemned as stupid, even when he was younger, but was secretly slightly envious of. He found it intriguing and wished to know what it felt like to do that. But he liked it even more in John.

He had come home once reeking of alcohol and ciggies, with a few bruises in his face, but a smug grin on his face, meaning he’d fought someone and won for whatever reason (he’d heard something at school about John trying to chat up the wrong bird and having her boyfriend come after him, but he wasn’t sure it was true) and Paul would feel something come over him. He still thought the behaviour was idiotic, but it made him feel _something_. Something youthful, that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, let alone name.  He liked the dangerous look. It intrigued him. It made him curious.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sound of the front door falling shut, followed by a happy shout that sounded like Julia.

“We’re home!” Paul turned to look at the clock and saw it was indeed already half past five. The day had flown by since he had come home from school at two. He put down his freshly made cup of tea and smiled with open arms as the ten-year-old girl ran into the kitchen. He grabbed her by her waist and lifted her up, before kissing her cheek, which made the girl squeal and struggle in his arms for fear of falling, knowing she was far too old and heavy to be lifted up like that. Laughing, Paul quickly put her back down, feeling his arms and back protesting already.

***

John was sitting at his desk doodling when he heard his mother call him downstairs for dinner. Not that he had been able to concentrate. It had gotten even worse when his mother had come home, the silent threat of having to go downstairs and face Paul inching closer and closer. He truly didn’t know what to do next. Paul had caught him eavesdropping on him playing piano and writing a song… How the man had noticed him, John didn’t know. He hadn’t turned his head to him or anything. He had just… noticed him or something. And it wasn’t because he was a teacher. Those idiots never noticed anything. But Paul had. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that he had seen him, one way or another, and John wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.

He supposed Paul wouldn’t do much with it. Perhaps tell his mother and think of it as a sign that things would get better between them. But that was the real trouble, wasn’t it? Because John still didn’t like him. It didn’t matter that the guy could play piano and seemed to be fucking good at it. It didn’t even matter that he could write his own songs, which was something John had always wanted to do, but always got stuck on. No, this didn’t change anything, and Paul needed to know that. John supposed all he could do was simply see what happened during dinner and do what was needed to be done, preferably after dinner when his sister and mother weren’t around. They didn’t need to be dragged into this.

John crossed out some of the lines he had written in his notebook and reluctantly went downstairs. His mother greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and motioned him to sit down while she put the last few things on the table and sat down as well. Jules was already sitting at the table and was mindlessly playing with her fork, stroking across the top with her fingers. Paul however, wasn’t around. John decided that asking where he was would make people think he cared, so he simply helped his mother divide the food across four plates.

“Paul’s fixing Jules’ bike. She had a flat tire. He’ll be back soon,” Julia explained as she too sat down and started eating, obviously having noticed the frown on John’s face. John simply shrugged and started eating.

“I’m going out tonight,” he announced, popping a potato in his mouth.

“Really? Where to?” his mother asked, looking up at him.

“The Cavern. With Stu and Richie. There’s this new band playing, so we thought we’d check it out, you know.”

“Sure. Don’t stay out too late,” his mother told him.

“Well, actually-” John started, but was interrupted by Paul coming in. He quickly looked down at his plate, pretending not to care, as Paul sat down and leaned over to kiss his mother. Jules voiced her disgust by making gagging noises, which made John chuckle. Neither Julia nor Paul seemed to care much, though.

“Did you manage to fix it?” Julia asked and Paul nodded as he picked up his knife and fork and started to eat as well.

“Yeah. Easy job. It had probably been a small rock or something,” he said.

“So I can cycle again?” Jules asked excitedly. Paul smiled at her and nodded.

“Yes, as fast as the wind.” Jules smiled broadly at that, but John rolled his eyes. He could’ve done it too. He had been doing it for the last three years, in fact! Nothing special about fixing a bloody flat tire.

“So, what else have you done today?” Julia asked, seemingly having forgotten all about her discussion with her son, and Paul shrugged.

“Nothing much. Work was same as always, nothing special. When I can home I was alone, so I tried to finish that song I was working on,” he said. Julia nodded.

“Any good?”

“You can ask John, actually. He heard me play when he came home from school,” Paul told her. John felt his body tense up and he glared at Paul from the corner of his eyes, but still pretended not to look. He didn’t miss the smirk on the man’s face, however.

“Really, John? Well, what did you think? Since you’re the music expert in the house,” Julia asked him. John cursed to himself and simply hummed something in response. When his mother told him she hadn’t heard, John was _this_ _close_ to simply walking out. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t feeling like discussing it? What was he going to say? Still, he muttered an answer just to stay out of trouble. He still wanted to go out and he wouldn’t be allowed to if he caused trouble. Hopefully, he could stay over at Stuart’s.

“I didn’t hear much…” John muttered, hoping that would be enough to get his mother off his back. Apparently it wasn’t.

“Come on. You must have heard something,” his mother pushed on. And then to make it all even better, Paul started to talk too.

“Yeah, you were standing there for quite a while. You must have heard the whole song at least once, maybe twice. Not that it’s finished, of course.”

“I’ve heard better, I suppose,” John answered with a grunt. Paul sighed, but left it at that. His mother did too, knowing she wasn’t going to get more out of him.

“I’d still like to hear it,” Jules suddenly said, cutting the silence, “I thought it sounded nice last time I heard it.” Paul smiled at that and ruffled her hair.

“You can hear it after dinner.”  He promised her, making her smile and John roll his eyes again.

During dinner John didn’t say much more, trying to keep out of the conversations as much as possible and not get too annoyed with the whole thing. His mother and her boyfriend were still so close, brushing hands and even feeding each other, and making stupid inside jokes. It was sickening.

Paul was telling her about this stupid accident with his friend George when there were young and still in school. About how the lad had gotten beaten with a ruler on his hands for doodling in class or something and how his father turned up the next day and punched the teacher right in the face and warned him to never hit his son again. Apparently everyone thought it was hilarious. Well, not John. Besides, the guy was talking about his friend all the time. Not that John knew what Paul liked about George. Sure, he had only met him once, but the first impression hadn’t been that good. The guy didn’t even talk! And he looked a bit scary as thin as he was.

When Paul started his second story about him and George at school, John decided he had enough. He looked up at Paul and narrowed his eyes at him. When the guy didn’t even seem to notice, John cleared his throat, interrupting him mid-sentence.

“Are you queer?” he asked without even thinking. He didn’t know where that question had come from, and it hadn’t really been what he had wanted to ask in the first place, but it gave the wanted result. The whole table went quiet and they were all looking at him with shocked expressions on their faces. John grinned at that and leaned forward towards Paul.

“E-ex...cuse me?” Paul asked, sounding flabbergasted, which he most likely was. He was blinking rapidly and John felt his heart jump in triumph.

“You. Are you queer? You sure sound like it,” he said with a shrug, looking back at his almost empty plate. It stayed completely silent at the table for a couple of seconds, before his mother found her voice again.

“John! That’s not-” she started, but Paul interrupted her, cutting her off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice tight. John shrugged again, before looking up, meeting the guy’s eyes. For a second John thought he had seen something on the man’s face, something other than shock and faint disgust. Something more on the lines of… fear. But not the kind John had been hoping for.

“Come on. As if I’m the first one to ask?” John pushed on, not even trying to hide his smirk.

“No actually,” Paul snapped at him. Julia leaned over and laid a calming hand on Paul’s arm.

“Paul…” she started, but was cut off again, this time by John.

“Well, are you?” he asked again. Paul gaped at him, not believing he was truly asked this.

“I can’t believe…”

“Are you?”

“No! Of course not! Now stop this nonsense,” Paul almost ordered, but John didn’t give in just yet. He wanted to push the man a bit more, trying to see how far he could go.

“But you must be. With the way you talk about that George guy and your pretty plucked eyebrows. And the way you act, of course. Fluttering those eyelashes and those feminine moves. I bet you even manicure your nails. In London you must have worked in theatre,” John pushed on as he continued to eat calmly.

“I don’t _pluck_ my eyebrows.”

“So you got them from your mum?” John asked, faking interest.

“No, my dad actually. If you must know.”

“Then he was a queer too,” John concluded with another shrug and smirked up at Paul.

“John! Stop this nonsense, or you won’t be going out tonight. You hear me,” Julia told her son sternly, but John didn’t care.

“Sure, Mimi,” he simply taunted and turned back to Paul, who was still looking shocked, but also angry. John swallowed at the look in the other man’s eyes. He must have pissed him off by insulting his father. He knew he would be.

“You’re still queer, if that’s all you can say in your defence,” he muttered.

“John! Upstairs! NOW!” Julia suddenly told him in a raised voice. John bit the inside of his mouth, but stood up anyway.

“Filthy queer!” he snarled at Paul, before storming off to his room, where he got his jacket, money and ciggies, before running back down stairs and rushing out of the door. He had had enough of this stupid house. He didn’t even  care if Stuart would bring a girl with him, he’d stay there anyway.

***

John met up with Stuart at a pub, where Stuart would often eat if he didn’t fancy cooking himself, or when his mother wouldn’t make him anything. He could see the older lad sitting in a booth in the corner of the pub with Ringo. Both were eating and drinking beer. That last sounded like a terrific idea. He quickly ordered himself a beer and walked over to where his two friends were sitting.

“Lennon! Thought you were being a good son and having dinner at home!” Stuart greeted him with a large, already slightly drunken, smile. John smiled half-heartedly back at him as he sat down. He’d rather not talk about what happened at dinner. He just needed to get away from it all. Escape his mind and not think about anything for a while.

“Nah. Screwed it up again by asking if the guy is queer. Figured I’d come here to escape the heat,” John explained as he stole a bite of Stuart’s food.

“I was only joking when I said you should ask him, you know,” Stuart replied with a knowing grin. John made a spastic face in response, making Stuart laugh.

“What did he say?” Ringo asked between bites.

“Said he wasn’t, of course. What did you think? He did say he didn’t pluck his eyebrows, though, so I’m not sure what happened there, but I know it wasn’t good.”

“Hmm… I wouldn’t know either. I saw him this afternoon when I was walking Mo to school.” Ringo chuckled.

“Aww. Come on. Now I’m the only one who hasn’t seen the guy,” Stuart groaned, leaning back in his chair as he shoved the last of his food towards John again, who ate it greedily.

“You should come over for dinner once,” John joked. Stuart grinned back at him.

“Sounds a lot more interesting than my family dinners. Could be fun.”

“Sure. Come whenever. Now, let’s talk about something else. I came here to have some fucking fun, remember,” John said, before gulping down his first beer.

“I’ll buy. You seem like you need it,” Ringo said, grabbing all their glasses and heading towards the bar the get more.

“Ta, mate!” John said, before reaching in his pocket for a ciggy. This was going to be a fun night.

 


	4. Chapter 4

After the three of them had finished their third beer of the evening and finished their dinner, they decided to head over to the cavern. It had already started to get dark and the cold was slowly taking over. John put on his jacket and lit him and Ringo a ciggy as they followed Stuart through the crowd of people that were starting to gather around the club. It wasn’t particularly busy that evening, it being a Thursday evening, but there were still quite a few people on the street. They manouvered through them with ease and soon they were welcomed by the warmth and good music of the cavern. They took a seat at one of the table near the bar.

Like outside, it wasn’t too busy, but there were plenty of people there to have a good time. Some girls were dancing together or with their guys, men were talking at the bar or drinking beer and chatting and laughing as they all listened to a band that played on the stage. John recognized the band that was playing vaguely, but not enough to remember the name. Only that they played well and were nice for as far he could remember. One of the girls dancing with a friend caught John’s eye, as he checked the place out and smiled at him. John replied with a smile and a wink of his own, trying to make sure he’d remember her face once he had drunk some more so he could try and give her a pull. It had been a while since he last had a pretty girl in his lap. Might as well give it a shot, he reckoned.

“So, Lennon. Gonna buy us a round? You know. Since me and Richie bought the last two.” Stuart asked as he nudged his side. John looked away from the pretty girl and smirked at his friend.

“I’ll be right back.”

          It wasn’t long before the three of them were getting pretty drunk. They had only been sitting there for about an hour and a half and they had already drunk three more beers. Although Ringo and Stu seemed to enjoy themselves perfectly fine, John couldn’t say the same. Sure, he enjoyed the buzz the alcohol was giving him, numbing his mind and making him feel a little giddy, but still his mood wasn’t great. He laughed along with the stupid jokes his friends made and the inappropriate comments they made about the boys and girls around them, but deep down he didn’t feel good. He was bored, envious of his friends for being carefree, easily irritated and slightly grumpy because of it. Overall he felt… queasy, restless. He felt he needed to do something. Something else besides continuously tapping his foot and trying to numb himself via alcohol. He sighed and looked away from his friends who were once again giggling as a girl walked past with a stain right on her tit. John wasn’t sure why he was feeling like this. He hadn’t been able to relax ever since Paul had caught him spying, really. And it had gotten worse after dinner, of course. Still, John didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It wasn’t like he and Paul hadn’t fought before. It was… that look. The flash of fear that had crossed Paul’s face for only a second. John shook his head and downed another beer, trying to push Paul out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about him. He got up, muttered something to his friends about getting another beer and stumbled over to the bar, where he sat down on a stool, just to be away from those giggling fools for a while.

He listened quietly to the band on stage as he sipped at his seventh beer of the evening. He tried to drink it slowly, remembering he still had school the next day and shouldn’t torture himself by making him sit through a whole day with a huge hangover. He couldn’t skip. He was already in trouble and the school year had only started for about a month or something. Besides, with his mum being pissed at him for his behavior, it would be nicer to be at school rather than sit at home with her. His was pulled away from his thoughts when he noticed the pretty girl taking a seat next to him at the bar from the corner of his eye. Deciding that perhaps the evening wasn’t all lost, he turned to her with his typical Lennon-grin and tapped her shoulder. When she turned to him John could already feel himself get a little warm inside. She looked even more gorgeous up close. She had dark brown hair, coming to just above her shoulders. She wore a pretty light pink dress, that was cut to just above her breasts, drawing his eyes to them, where a pretty silvery necklace hung. She was curvy and had nice thick thighs for as far as John could see, which he’d love to see wrapped around his waist as he forced her against a wall. Her lips were slim, but a pretty glossy pink. Her deep blue eyes seemed to look straight through John.

“Hello. What’s your name?” He asked her, leaning forward a little and winking at her. The the corners of the girl’s lips curled up in a half-amused smile, before she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Who wants to know?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. John laughed at that, but took the bait.

“I’m John. Your turn.” He answered into her ear, before pulling away to take another sip from his beer. He liked this girl already and he hadn’t even heard her name yet.

“Anna.” She replied simply, speaking a little louder so she wouldn’t have to keep leaning in, but she kept her head close.

“Well, Anna. Would you like me to buy you a drink?” John offered. The girl bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair, as if she was unsure. John leaned in a bit more and let his hand brush against her bare arm.

“Or we could dance. I know you’re a good dancer.” John pressed on with another charming smile. The girl shook her head and pulled away from him.

“I’m not sure my boyfriend would approve.” she explained, smiling apologetically. John frowned.

“Boyfriend?” He asked.

“Yeah. He’s… he’s just over there with some friends.” She answered, nodding her head towards a table on the other side of the room where some loud guys were laughing and joking around, sounding pretty drunk. John whined as he saw a rather buff, blond man sitting at the table smoking and drinking.

“Let me guess? It’s the tough-looking one.” He muttered. The little warmth that had filled his body had left it already. Why did all the pretty and easy ones have tough boyfriends. Why couldn’t girls date losers, so he could fuck ‘em in the bathroom for both their benefit.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Anne said, looking down at her nails as she played with her fingers.

“If you want a reason to get rid of him, my offer for a drink still stands.” John tried, taking a few quick gulps from his own drink to try and banish out the depressive mood that was crawling back into his heart. The girl chuckled at that but shook her head.

“Perhaps another time.” She said, before picking up her bag from the bar and standing up. She leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, before whispering in his ear again.

“You’ll find another girl to cheer you up.” She told him, before pulling away and kissing his cheek again. John turned to look at her with a half-hearted smile on his face.

“Send her to me if you find her, why don’t you.”

“Sure. Here, next drink is on me.” Anna said as she got out some money from his purse and handed it to John, who opened his mouth to say something, but before could, she had already walked away from him. He stared at the money in his hand and to where the girl had disappeared. At least she had taken his mind off all the crap in his life for a few minutes, though it would’ve been great if her boyfriend hadn’t been around. Normally John didn’t care much for boyfriends, but when they were as strong as they looked, he’d rather save his own face for a while longer. It wasn’t worth it. He drank the last of his beer, before ordering the next, paying with the girl’s money.

“Girls, eh?” A voice suddenly came from his left as the barkeeper handed him his drink. John cocked an eyebrow and took a sip as he turned to where the voice had been coming from. He was met with a pretty lad smiling his way. He wasn’t much older than John was, probably nineteen. He looked less though, however, almost looking out of place in the dimly lit cavern. He was smaller than John was, in both height and broadness, but he wasn’t skinny. He was… lean. Muscled, but less big overall. He had dirty blond hair, cut short, but long enough to run your fingers through and pull at. John guessed the guy wasn’t one to use gel, for it looked soft and fluffy. He wore a pair of tight jeans and a leather jacket, but neat shoes. He had a large, radiant smile and his eyes were a soft blue. His cheeks and chin were covered in a light stubble. Overall he was rather attractive, so John smiled back at him and nodded.

“You can say that again. They’re work.” He said, looking the guy up and down.

“It’s the boyfriends who are the most work, though.” The other man replied, “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“John.” John replied, offering the guy his hand, who shook it politely.

“I heard. If you want, you can offer me that drink and I’ll try to cheer you up, if you want to.” He said, leaning in a little and lowering his voice. John’s smile broadened when he realised what the guy was saying. If one looked long enough, one started to see the signs, and this guy was more than clear in what he was meaning. John nodded and waved at the barkeeper to order another drink.

“I’ll give you a shot, Eric. If  you’re lucky you might succeed.” He said after he had let Eric order for himself. The other lad nodded and took a large sip of his drink and John did the same.

          John was surprised when he found out that Eric was actually a really nice guy to talk to. He was funny, clever and didn’t make stupid jokes and laughed at all the right times. He didn’t judge John for hating on his mother’s boyfriend simply because he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. John told him almost everything, even about dinner when he asked Paul if he was queer. He liked the way the man’s eyes seemed to almost drop from his skull and how he almost choked on his beer as he told him.

“You asked him if he was queer?!” He asked, eyes wide and an amused smile on his face. John nodded.

“Yeah. Better to know now than later, right?” He asked, laughing. Eric shrugged.

“I suppose. So that’s why you’re drinking your arse off on a thursday evening?” He asked.

“It’s everything really. Besides, I hoped I might give a girl a pull, but apparently that didn’t work out.” John replied. Eric looked up at him, catching his eye and leaned a little closer.

“Want to go somewhere else? You might get lucky there?” He suggested as he placed a hand near John’s so that only their fingertips were touching. John felt his heartbeat accelerate as he watched the guys pupils grow darker. He licked his lips and gave a slight nod, before pulling his hand away.

“Sure.” He said, his throat already tight and his cock slowly stirring in his trousers. Eric smiled at him and drank the last of his beer, before standing up and walking away without another word. John watched him walk, his brain not responding that quickly anymore, before he drank the last of his beer as well, and hurried awkwardly after the other man, knocking over some stools and bumping into people in the process. Stupid legs, he cursed to himself.

          John followed Eric from a distance, watching closely where he was going, even though he was a pretty good idea. He frowned however, when he walked up a staircase, but followed him anyway. He hoped his friends wouldn’t go looking for him, but he figured they’d probably think he had found a pretty bird to toy around with. Which, in a different way, he had. Sort of. Eric walked opened a door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. John waited another thirty seconds before following. He grinned to himself when he saw it was a bathroom, like he had thought.

He didn’t have much time to congratulate however, for as soon as he had stepped inside, he was pushed against the door, that fell close behind him. The air was knocked out of him by the force of his back hitting the door. He closed his eyes and groaned at the slight pain, but before he could open his eyes to comment on the forcefulness, he was silenced by a pair of lips pressing against his own and a tongue slipping between his lips and forcing its way inside. John groaned at the sudden attack and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss as he raised his arms and grabbed his kissing partner by his shoulders. With a sudden, unexpected move, he flipped them around and pressed a knee between the other man’s legs to keep him against the door as he broke the kiss.

“Feeling happier already?” Eric asked smugly as he thrusted his hips against John’s feeling the bulge in his pants. John simply groaned hungrily and forced his lips back against Eric’s, claiming his mouth and making him moan weakly as his hands cupped his face and moved into his hair.

“Stall. We… someone might walk in.” Eric breathed as he broke the kiss and pushed John away from him a little. John went easily due to his slight drunken state. He blinked a few times, his brain having difficulty catching up, before nodding and grabbing Eric by the lapels of his jacket and dragging him with him into one of the far end stalls, as far away from the door as possible. He shoved Eric onto the toilet seat.

“Done this before?” Eric laughed breathlessly as John turned back to the door to lock it. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his slightly curly hair out of his face. John grinned at him as he turned to face him again, happy to have found someone to forget about stuff for a while and simply enjoy himself. He shuffled over to him, leaning with one hand against the wall of the stall to keep his balance, and took Eric’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, cocking his head up to look into his eyes. Eric didn’t say anything as John leaned in to kiss him again, and simply moaned wantonly as John forced his mouth open and let his tongue explore his mouth a bit more. Encouraged, John started to lightly nibble on the other man’s bottom lip. When he felt Eric’s hands on his belt buckle, he pulled away, teeth still lightly biting down on the man’s lip.

“Come one, then.” John ushered the blond on, his voice husky. Eric looked up at him, and nodded as his fingers started to work on John’s belt buckle, undoing it before unzipping his jeans and pulling them down to John’s knees. John could see the older man lick his lips as he eyed the bulge in John’s underwear. He looked up at him again, catching his eye and holding it as he leaned forward and licked a long, firm stripe up over the bulge. John groaned at the wonderful feeling as well as the sinful sight.

“Fuckk…” He breathed, trying his best to keep his eyes open when the man did it again, this time with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. His eyes were a very dark blue, looking almost completely black in the dim light of the unused bathroom. A light blush painted his cheeks and John moaned as he started to fully suck his cock through his wight boxer briefs. He pushed a hand in the older man’s hair, pushing it back and lightly tugging at it. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and John almost gasped when he saw him cupping himself though his pants.

“Fuck  yeah… Suck me. Come one. Put that pretty mouth to some good use.” John said, closing his eyes to block out the arousing sight before him, not wanting to come prematurely, which was already going to be difficult, considering how hard he was and how much he had been drinking. Thank god for his high alcohol tolerance. Eric hummed his approval and pulled away to drag John’s underwear down. His eyes left John’s as he watched John’s rock hard cock jump free.

“Good to know your drinking habits don’t affect your dick.” He said, his slender fingers wrapping himself around the shaft. John groaned at the feeling and thrusted his hips forward, allowing himself to fuck Eric’s fist. He huffed a laugh.

“Less talking, more sucking, would you.” He told him, his fingers tightening in his blond hair and forcing his head forward a little. Eric nodded eagerly and moved his hand down the shaft to make way for his mouth. John had to bit his tongue in order not to moan too loudly as the guy’s mouth sank over the head of his dick and further down. Down and down until John felt the head hit the back of the Eric’s throat.

“Fuck. That’s it.” He breathed, holding onto Eric’s hair and the wall for dear life as his knees already started to weaken. Eric looked back up at him as he swallowed around him, allowing himself to get used to the heavy weight of a cock on his tongue, before pulling back and swirling his tongue around the head to gather the precum. When he sank back down again, John cursed softly and threw his head back. Eric continued to move up and down his cock, swirling his tongue around the head whenever he had enough room and swallowing around him, his throat constricting around the cock in his mouth. Once he finally got used to the feeling, he started to move a bit quicker, bobbing his mouth up and down John’s cock and suckling harshly on the head as he moved his hand lower to play with John’s balls. When John opened his mouth, he nearly came on the spot, the sight being almost too much. The blond had tears burning in his eyes as he moved at a rapid speed, sucking him off as best as he could, as John continued to thrust into his mouth and trigger his gag reflex.

“Shit…” John cursed as he saw a drop of thick spit slide down the lad’s mouth, landing right underneath him on the dirty floor. His hand was still working his clothed cock and John wanted to say something about him jerking off properly instead when he was cut off by the feeling of Eric’s teeth dragging lightly over his cock. The feeling sent shivers of pain and pleasure down his spine and John moaned out his name as he held onto him tighter and forced his cock further inside.

“Gonna… ugh… gonna cum.” John breathed, pulling at Eric’s hair to warn him, but Eric only hummed around the cock in his mouth and sucked harder. With five more sucks, John came, shooting his cum down the other man’s throat and throwing his head back as he moaned.

“P-Pa… fuck! Oh shite!” He cursed, thrusting into the other man’s mouth one last time, as he swallowed it all, every drop.  He could feel Eric gripping his thighs for support, as John forced his mouth further down his cock, his nails digging into his scalp, but John didn’t care. All he felt was pure pleasure.

          Once he finally came down from his high, he pulled away and fell down onto the ground with his back against the stall door. Eric was coughing loudly and wiping his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. John watched him, a satisfied grin on his face.

“So, any good?” Eric asked him once he had regained control over his breathing. His voice sounded terrible from the blowjob. John giggling at the thought that he did that to him.

“Well, aren’t you nice. Laughing at the guy who made you cum.” Eric joked, faking annoyance.

“No. It was good.” John said, once he had finished laughing.

“Good? Just good?”

“Alright. Mediocre.” John replied with a shrug, making Eric laugh.

“Fuck you!” He shot at him, making John laugh as well. After that it stayed quiet for a while. Once John felt better and his brian got a little less murky, he noticed the bulge that was still clearly visible in the other man’s jeans.

“Want me to help you with that?” he asked with a wink. Eric looked down at himself and smirked, before getting up from the toilet and moving over to where John was sitting as he undid his trousers. John sat up a bit more and allowed Eric to sit in his lap, holding him by his hips as Eric took his cock out. John leaned up and placed another kiss on Eric’s lips before leaning back against the stall door as his fingers found the other man’s dick.

“Ahh…” Eric moaned as he thrusted up into John’s first, chasing the well needed pleasure. John chuckled at that and lazily started stroking him, spreading the precum around with his thumb.

“John…” Eric started after a a couple of seconds. John hummed, tightening his fist. “Who- whose name… were you holding back?” John blinked a couple of times at the older man, subconsciously stopping his movements. Eric noticed and opened his eyes, looking John straight in the eye.

“When you came… you… you said something… like… like- something with a P. Or a Pa.” He added, moving his hips on his own, trying to get more needed friction. He was already close. John simply stared at him, not sure what he was talking about.

“What…” He started, but Eric interrupted him.

“Sounded…. sounded like Paul. Or something.” He spoke softly, gasping between words. John’s body tensed at the name. Surely he hadn’t… fuck… no! That was…. Without a warning he let go of Eric and sat up, causing Eric to almost topple over. Luckily, he caught himself and regained balance just in time.

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” John asked him, his voice suddenly loud and angry. Eric looked up at him with huge eyes, understanding he shouldn’t have commented on it.

“I- It’s just… Maybe you don’t hate your stepdad.”

“He’s not my fucking stepdad and what the hell are you saying?!”

“Well, maybe. And just maybe, you… you’re just confused.”

“About what?” John barked at him, his hands balling up into fists. Eric started at him and bit his lip as he tried to move away, understanding fully well he had pissed John off and that he was obviously drunk. It wasn’t the best combination.

“Well…”

“Fucking say it then.”

“You like him. Paul. You… you like him. That way. And you’re angry, because you feel bad. Because you know he’ll leave. Because you’re afraid he’ll leave.”

“You fucking…” John started, but didn’t finish his sentence. His heart was beating quickly in his chest and he felt hot all over. The restlessness was back, the anger was back and he had an incredible urge to punch something. When he noticed Eric backing away, he grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him closer.

“But maybe I’m wrong!” Eric said quickly, “I am probably, no definitely wrong. Just forget what I said, okay? Just forget it.” John didn’t hear him anymore, though. Blood was rushing through his ears, blocking out any noise and all John could see was red hot anger. Without a second thought he raised his fist and punched Eric, hard on the nose. A crack filled the air. Eric fall back, his head landing against the wall. John quickly rushed to his feet. Luckily, he had missed the man’s nose, and the crack he had heard had been the dent in the wall of the stall, created by Eric’s head. He quickly unlocked the door, planning to rush out and never talk or listen to the fucking twat ever again, but before he had set a foot outside the stall, two hands were grabbing him by his shoulder and pushed him against the wall. John didn’t even have time to look around him, before a fist collided with his cheek. Pain shot through him and he groaned as he reached for his face, but someone grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“I was wrong, alright?” Eric shouted at him. John spit in his face.

“Fuck you!” He snapped, taking advantage and pushing the older man away from him, but he was quickly grabbed again. He turned around, planning to hit the fucker right on the nose this time, but he couldn’t. All he could see was Eric’s angry face, before he was pushed against the sinks.

“You’re being unreasonable. I’m sorry.”

“Fucking let me leave!”

“What? You’re not gonna finish what you’ve started?” Eric asked, pointing at his crotch. John scoffed and tried to move away again, but Eric was on him in a second. And John found himself pinned against the wall once more that evening. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Eric hit him again, before digging his knee into John’s crotch. John cried out at the pain in his crotch and doubled over.

“Fuck you, John! And yes, you might want to think about what I’ve said. Because you bloody well moaned his name when you came down my throat.” Eric told him sternly and kicked his leg once, before turning around and making his way to the door.

          John continued hit around himself aimlessly, hoping to hit the fucker, but soon found he was alone. He felt something wet drizzle down his face. He wiggling over to the mirror in front of the sinks. He whined when he saw his bruised face. He didn’t remember taking a blow to the nose, but it was bleeding. His eye didn’t look much better. He tried to move to one of the stalls to get some toilet paper for his nose, but his crotch was too painful, making every move more and more difficult.

“Stu…” John thought to himself. Stu would know what to do. Deciding that it was more important to find help, John stumbled over to the door. Eric had left it open, so John could step right through. He leaned against the wall, his dizziness from both the alcohol and blows he had taken growing ever worse. He sat  down on the top of the stairs and slowly descended them sitting, step by step.

“Fuck…” He cursed to himself, but he sighed once he was finally downstairs. He could see Eric leaving, stomping away angrily and John sighed once more. He had actually liked the fucker. He cocked it up, though. No way John had said anything about Paul.

“Cunt…” John breathed weakly as he rose from the stairs. He carefully moved around the corner and back into the cavern, where he could see Stuart and Ringo walking his way with worried expressions on his face. John tried to raise his hand and wave at them, but his wrist was grabbed. Roughly he was being turned around and he found himself up close with the tough-looking boyfriend he had seen before. Behind him stood his pretty girlfriend, looking at him with an apologetic look on her face, her hand before her mouth. Probably in shook by his state. The boyfriend laughed in his face.

“This is the git you kissed. For fuck’s sake. He can’t even hold himself in a fight, this one. This is not even worth my time.” He said. John’s eyes grew wide. Kiss? They didn’t kiss. Fuck! Right? His head was pounding and John had a difficult time to think straight. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The boyfriend continued to laugh.

“Still, better safe than sorry, me mum always said.” He said and before John knew what he was talking about, another first collided with his head, his other eye this time. The dizziness grew worse and for a second everything went black. He felt himself stumble backwards, until he felt some strong arms grab him.

“I got him! Let’s go before he starts more trouble.” John could hear Stuart say. From far away he could still hear the guy laugh at him and Eric’s voice speaking to him. “You like him.”

* * *

 

The world around him wasn’t much more than a vague blur, as Stuart manoeuvred him outside and into the open air with Ringo’s help. It had started rain softly. John’s eyelids twitched as some raindrops fell onto his face. A chilly wind blew across his face, making him shiver in his friend’s arms.

“Shh… you’re alright. I’ve got you. Let’s get you home. Christ, you’re a fucking mess.” Stuart muttered into his ear as he moved him along the streets, pushing them through the small crowd of people that still stood before the club, trying to get in. Ringo walked behind them, holding their stuff as he’d sometimes help John back on his feet whenever he would slide away over the slippery stone street.  Slowly John began to regain full consciousness. His feet and legs started to become much more cooperative and his knees less wobbly. His nose stopped bleeding too, but he still looked a mess, most likely, since John could feel the blood mixing with the rain and drizzling down his face, onto his shirt and the ground. He tried to lift his hand to clean it off, but he quickly got dizzy and almost fell again. Luckily, Ringo was right there besides them to catch him.

“What the fuck happened, Lennon?” Stuart grumbled as he and Ringo lifted him onto his feet a bit more, getting John to walk a bit more himself. His arms started to shake, probably becoming tired from carrying him around. John tried to shake his head, but quickly stopped as he saw dark spots appear before his eyes.

“Fuchnm…” He started to no avail, his bruised mouth and face making it difficult to speak. Still being drunk didn’t help either. His voice died off and he looked down at the ground in embarrassment. His friends seemed to notice, and left it at that, deciding they could figure it out later.

“Whverv arme wie goinm?” John tried instead, finding it difficult to form proper words. Stuart chuckled and glanced down at his friend, before answering.

“Home. To your mum. She’ll know what to do. You need to get into a bed.”

“No. Nowt there. Yvour plaze.” John mumbled sternly. Or at least he tried to. Stuart shook his head.

“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t fucking care whether you want to go home or not. You need help and you’re not going to bleed on my carpet. Besides, you’re home in closer and you’re damn heavy.” He told John, huffing as he dragged John up over the curb and onto the pavement. John grumbled angrily at the insult and tried to persuade Stu, by acting like he was fine, but soon his legs gave out again and the discussion was over. Stuart decided it was Ringo’s turn to help John. They switched every so often as they continued to walk, getting slowly soaked through and through by the rain.

Luckily for Stuart and Ringo, with every passing minute John was starting to feel better, until at the end, he had his nose pinched closed with his hand as he stumbled across the street towards his home which would only be a couple houses further down. John swallowed hard once he reached the gate to his home. Stuart offered his friend his shoulder to lean on and John accepted, feeling incredibly tired and still weak from the beating, his body and brain still intoxicated with alcohol. He was shivering from the cold, his clothing soaked through to the skin.

“I’ll just wait here.” Ringo said, taking Stuart’s coat from him and leaning against the gate as he lit himself a ciggy. Stuart nodded and opened to gate for John to step through. John took a deep breath, hoping it would be his mum to open up and that she’d go easy on him. Except fate wasn’t that kind. He held onto Stuart tightly as his friend knocked loudly on the door and rang the bell. John didn’t know what time it was, but he knew it was late. Terribly so. His mother wouldn’t be happy with him. Even he in his drunken and dazzled state he could understand that. He chewed his lips and tried to breathe normally as he felt his heart sped up and his stomach twist and turn, making him nauseous once again. When the door finally opened and he saw who stood behind it, he immediately looked down, daring not to look him straight in the eye.

“John?” A low, melodic, but croaky voice asked, sounding more confused than anything. “John! God, what happened to you?” He asked, sounding a lot more awake and worried now. John didn’t dare to look up, Eric’s words still echoing through his mind.

“He got into a fight. Oh and he’s fucking wasted.” He heard Stuart explain next to him. Paul hummed in understanding and John’s body jerked as he felt the man’s hand grasp his shoulder, pulling him towards the house. He tried to pull away at first, but Paul’s grip on him was too strong and his own body too weak. So he gave up and reluctantly let himself be led inside.

“Thank you. Stuart, isn’t it?” Paul asked as he took John from him. John could see Stuart blink a few times from the corner of his eyes, probably being surprised Paul knew his name. John couldn’t blame him. If he didn’t feel so miserable, he would’ve been too.

“Yes. Erm… How did you-” He asked. Paul smiled at him.

“John speaks of you a lot. You’re a good friend, it’d be only logical it’d be you to bring him home.” He explained. Stuart nodded, obviously dumb-struck by how nice Paul actually was after having heard so many terrible stories about him all week from John. Luckily, he didn’t comment on it.

“Right. Well. I don’t know what happened to him. He got a punch against the eye by some heavy-looking guy, but he already looked like crap when he got back from the loo, so… Yeah… I don’t know. He hasn’t told me.” Stuart told Paul, wiggling from one foot to the other and back again as he chewed his lips and looked from Paul to John and back to Paul in a calculating manner.

“Anyway. I’d better go. Before the rain gets worse.“ Stuart added with a shrug, visibly cringing at the terrible excuse. Paul simply smiled and offered Stuart his hand to shake.

“Yes, of course. I’ll take it from here. Thanks for your help, Stuart.”

“Stu. Please.”

“Alright. Stu.” Paul agreed as Stuart grabbed his hand and shook it with a doubtful smile. He turned his head to give John one last look of good luck, before turning around and walking away. John sighed, trying to feign dizziness so Paul couldn’t question him, but soon found that wasn’t needed. He could see Paul talk to him, but his head didn’t register the words as the world began to spin around him again. Then his legs gave out from underneath him and almost collapsed onto the floor, if it wasn’t for Paul, who quickly wrapped his arms around John’s body to hold him up, pulling him against his chest. From far away John could hear the front door fall shut and Paul’s heart beating as his head lay against the older man’s chest.

“Alright, John. You need to lie down.” Paul gently spoke to him, lightly stroking his hair as he started to move them to the living room. John moaned weakly and nodded, allowing Paul to guide him and hold him so he wouldn’t fall. He squeezed his eyes shut as his head started to throb.

“Fuck…” He groaned, grabbing his head in both hands. “I-I should… upstairs. Sleep.” He continued, feeling relieved to at least be able to speak better again. He tried to break away from Paul’s grip again and go to the stairs, but Paul shook his head and refused to let go.

“No way, John. You’re coming with me and you’re going to sit on the couch and drink coffee and lots of water as you tell me what happened. Come on.” The older man said sternly, dragging John with him, careful so the younger man wouldn’t trip on his way or bump into anything. John tried to shake his head, but soon the hall started to deform before his eyes again, so he stopped.

“I’m fine. I just… need sleep. I’ll sleep it off.” He tried, but Paul would have none of it.

“You can’t. You’ve got school in the morning and you are going.” He told him as they got inside the living room. John groaned, having hoped he could’ve skipped if his mum had seen how he looked. Still, he could always try. For know he could only do as Paul told. Reluctantly he let himself be sat down on the couch and watched as Paul got him a pillow and moved him so he was lying down a bit more. His headache was getting worse, so he closed his eyes, trying to block everything out and have some silence in his head.

He silently listened to Paul moving about in the room, doing god’s know what, as John replayed the evening in his head. He had expected Paul to be angrier with him, after last night and the fact he had stumbled home at such late hour looking like crap. But Paul seemed worried. Which was annoying for sure, but… nice. He felt himself relax, his headache quieting down into a dull, but still unignorable ache. He had heard Paul leave to room, to do whatever, but hadn’t heard him come back inside. He was surprised when Paul suddenly spoke to him.

“Here. Take this.” he said as he laid a hand on his shoulder. John cracked open an eye and looked up at Paul, who was looking at him with a worried expression on his face. He held out a white pill and a glass of water. John sat up and took it from him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Aspirin. It will help with the headache. And whatever else you might be feeling.” John nodded and took it, drinking the whole glass in one go. He hadn’t realised before how thirsty he was. Once he was finished Paul took the glass back and offered him a mug.

“Coffee. For the hangover.” he explained. John scoffed but took it anything, knowing he needed it.

“What time is it?” He asked, taking a sip from his coffee. Paul sighed and sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Quarter past one.” he answered as he watched John. He was biting his lip, as if he was thinking. John looked away, feeling nervous under his gaze. He knew what Paul was thinking about. And the question was inevitable.

“John? What happened?” He asked finally once John had finished his coffee. He took the coffee pot, which he had put down behind him and poured him another. John thought about refusing, but by the intense look in Paul’s eyes, he figured he’d better not. He took the mug and drank some more.

“Nothin’. Got in a fight.” He mumbled as an answer with a shrug, trying to play it off as nothing.

“Stuart told me some lad punched you in the face, but you were already looking like shit before that. When you were coming out of the loo.” Paul remarked, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward so he was closed to John.

“Yeah. Got in a fight. In the loo.” John mumbled.

“John. Be honest. I know you better than that. You can hold yourself in fight. There is no way you came out of a fight looking like this. No matter if you were drunk or not.” Paul said and John sighed.

“I lost, alright? Now can I please go to sleep?”

“Not before you tell me what happened,” Paul said as he took the half drunk mug of coffee from John and handed him a glass of water, “Drink this.”

“No.”

“John, drink this.”

“No, piss off. I don’t need to tell you damn thing. You’re not my dad.”

“No, I’m not. Now drink this.”

“Fuck you.”

“John. Either you drink this, or I’m throwing you out of the house. If you’ll drink this I won’t tell your mother what happened. Deal?”

“You wouldn’t…”

“Want to try and see if I will?” Paul told him, his voice completely calm, but stern and forceful. John stared at him a little, trying to read him. Eventually he nodded and took the glass.

“I got into this fight. With some lad in the loo. Fucker told m-” John started, but quickly cut himself off. He needn’t tell Paul what happened. He took another gulp of water before he continued. “He insulted me so I punched him and we fought and I lost, alright? Guy gave me a sore eye and a bloody nose. Could be worse. Had worse.” John told him, his voice tight and his body tense. He hoped Paul wouldn’t see through the lie. When Paul didn’t say anything, but only nodded, John sighed and drank some more as he sat back and let his head rest against the couch. Some minutes passed before the older man spoke again.

“John. Are you… queer?” He asked, his voice quiet. John looked up at him and blinked at him a few times, not missing how a faint blush spread across Paul’s cheeks as he asked this.

“Piss off.” John simply replied. Paul licked his lips and moved a little closer as he tried again.

“It’s okay if you are.” He said gently, his voice hushed and soothing as if he was talking to a spooked horse. John frowned, but didn’t say anything, all the air having disappeared from his lungs.

“There’s nothing wrong with you if you are. I won’t tell. I just… is that why you were fighting in the loo? With that guy? Was he… “ Paul didn’t finish the question. He simply swallowed and waited for John to answer. John felt confused. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Wha-” He started, but Paul interrupted him.

“I thought the question was fair. Considering you asked me first.” He added with a chuckle.

“I-I’m not… I like girls. I love em. But…” John said, cutting himself  short again once he realised what he was saying. Paul had understood already, however.

“John. You need to be careful. You can’t- fighting the guys you… er… persue,” Paul started, but John cut in before him.

“Fuck. You can say it, can’t you?” John snapped, angry for feeling tricked into admitting he liked boys.

“Right. Well, it won’t do any good. People will find out if you continue to do this. Discretion is most important.”

“And you think I don’t know that?!”

“I’m just warning you. Life isn’t kind. To anyone.” Paul told him. After that he stayed quiet for a little. John looked down at the glass in his hand. He didn’t look up when Paul started talking again.

“Who else knows?” He asked.

“Stu and Cyn. That’s all.” He answered truthfully.

“Good. Keep it that way. I won’t tell your mother. You should do that in your own time. If you want to, of course.” Paul said. The table creaked and John looked up. Paul had stood up and was gathering the stuff they had used. John watched him quietly and squirmed in his seat, not sure what to say or do next. Luckily, Paul seemed to know.

“I know what you feel, John. If you need to talk, I’m here. Just… just be careful and sleep. Here’s a wet cloth to clean that blood of your face.” He said as he handed John just that. John nodded and cracked half a smile.

“Right.” Paul said, more to himself than John and smiled back, “Just sleep. And drink enough water.”  He said, before turning around and making for the door. John laid himself back down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

“Paul?” he asked, as he heard the door creak. The sound stopped so he turned his head towards the other man. “Thank you.” He said quickly, almost a whisper. Paul smiled and without another word, he closed the door and walked away. John looked back at the ceiling as he listened to Paul going back up stairs.

“Paul? What was it?” he could faintly hear his mother ask.

“Nothing. Just John coming home. Got into a fight again with his drunken arse, of course.” Paul answered quickly, before the bedroom door fell shut again, too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter onwards everything is imported from tumblr by [CJD](https://chut-je-dors.tumblr.com/) who is a good friend and overall pretty amazing. Suck it, Puck

John awoke the next morning with a awful headache and feeling terribly sore. His entire body objected fiercely when he tried to move. He was still on the couch, having fallen asleep there, and his neck was burning with pain, making it almost impossible for John to move his head. He tried to sit up and groaned at the pain that seemed to light up in his entire body. He grasped his head in both hands and looked down, closing his eyes tightly to shut out any of the golden morning light. Once his headache had seemed to calm down a little, he looked up at the clock, noting it was already half past seven. He remembered that Cynthia was supposed to pick him up to cycle the last bit to school together, as they had class together this morning. He groaned in annoyance, looking down again as his head started to ache much worse again. Cyn was going to murder him for what he did. What did he do again? Right, got into a fight and got beaten down. And then beaten again by that girl’s boyfriend. Fuck, how was it that he’d lost?! He should’ve been able to take on that Eric guy easily! Right? Kick to the balls, what a fucking coward’s move.

He pushed the thoughts of last night from his mind and tried to stand up, knowing he needed to get ready if he didn’t want to go to school half dressed in bloody clothing. Shit. He still wore his clothing. Well, his jeans at least. He had taken his shirt off before he had drifted off the sleep. Almost immediately after Paul had gone back upstairs. Suddenly the world stopped around him and a cold shiver traveled up his spine. Paul! He thought. He had told Paul he was queer and now Paul knew! John wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. It wasn’t like he had forced it out of him. John had given the information himself, with is mind having been too numb and slow to stop himself from admitting it. And Paul had told him he wouldn’t tell his mother or anyone else. So, perhaps it wasn’t that bad. Except…

John quickly shook his head, regretting it right away as his brain tried to bang itself out of his head. He stumbled over to the mirror above the fireplace to check himself out. He didn’t look half as bad as one might imagine. He had managed to clean the blood off his face and neck the night before and his nose looked perfectly normal again. His eyes were a light blue and purple, but because it was both of them, it didn’t stand out as much as it should. His lips was cut (though he couldn’t remember how that had happened), but had healed well overnight and he only had a few light bruises on his cheek that you could only see when you knew where they were. Overall it wasn’t that bad. Still, he felt terrible and nauseous due to the persistent headache. He inspected his face a bit more, poking and pulling at his face and skin to see how hurt he really was, before stumbling back to the couch to gather the remains of his clothing, shoes, the blanket and the wet cloth Paul had given him. The once white cloth was now dirty and pink with blood. John snickered at the thought of seeing his mother trying to wash that out.

Stumbling up the stairs to his room, he listened closely for any sounds of life, but all he could hear was the shower running. It was quickly turned off again and John chose not to wait to see who’d come out. He was worried it’d be Paul. After last night, he’d rather not see the man for a few more hours. He hadn’t been supposed to see him like this. Ever. And on top of that Eric’s words still hadn’t left his head, which made his headache worse too. What if… He started to ask himself, but quickly pushed the thoughts away again. It was absurd! Not even worth the time to think about. He got into his room, closed the door and picked up some clothing to wear. Once he heard the person leave the bathroom, he waited a little while until he was certain the hallway was empty, before heading towards the shower himself. He smelled of alcohol, blood and smoke. He desperately needed one.

          John felt his body relax as he enjoyed the hot water hitting his body and face, washing away any blood that had been left and made his muscles ache a lot less. He took some time studying his crotch area, wanting to be sure nothing had happened to lil’ Johnny when he got kicked there. That would be terrible. Imagine the loss the whole world would experience! He sighed in relief when he noticed everything was alright. Deciding it was best to make it up to lil’ Johnny for last night, he took himself in his hand and started to light jerk off at the thought of large, busty breasts and a wet pussy to slide into like he had wanted to do last night. He’d think of some pretty boy to fuck, but he decided that after all that had happened last night with Eric and Paul, it was still a little early, the fantasies probably hitting close to home if he let his mind wander.

It didn’t take him long to finish, and he quickly washed his hair, before stepping out of the shower, turning if off and drying himself. He glanced at the clock when he walked back into his room with his towel wrapped around his waist. Cynthia would be there in about fifteen minutes and he still needed to have breakfast. Quickly, he dressed himself in a simple pair of pants and a nice shirt for school, knowing Cynthia would appreciate it as well, which could help, considering how his face looked. She had given up on him long ago and didn’t even feel sorry for him anymore, only annoyed. Still, John knew she cared. She loved him, not matter what she’d say at times.

          When John walked into the kitchen he only saw his mother and sister. Paul wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Feeling relieved, John walked over to his mum to peck her on her cheek, but before he could, she had taken his head in both her hands and was studying him intently, her face both serious and worried. She tutted as she noticed the bruises.

“Oh, John. Why can’t you simply stay out of trouble? Look at your face!”

“I tried.” John objected, but his mother wouldn’t hear it.

“Of course you did. Oh boy, if it wasn’t for Paul I would’ve sended you to stay at mimi’s already. God knows you probably wouldn’t even have gotten inside.” She said, sounding disappointed as she turned away again. John frowned at that. Paul wouldn’t have him go to Mimi’s? If anything, John thought he’d want nothing more! He decided not to dwell on it, however. It was better to keep Paul from his mind for a while. At least until Eric’s voice had finally gotten out of his head.

“Aren’t you a loving mother.” He muttered in return, grabbing himself a bowl and some cereal and milk from the fridge. He decided to have some orange juice as well. One needs his vitamins, right? Grabbing his sister’s used spoon, he sat down opposite her and quickly scrambled everything into his mouth.

“Eh! That’s mine!” Jules shouted, looking up from the book she’d been reading.

“You’re not using it, are you?” John asked with a shrug, popping another large spoon of cereal into his mouth.

“Still, I used that! I’ve had that thing in my mouth! Got bacteria all over it and everything.”

“Well, it tastes delicious, darling.” John said with a wink.

“Ew.” She shuddered, looking away from her brother and back to her book, deciding that was far better than his disgusting jokes.

          John continued to eat silently, shoving more food into his mouth than he could manage at once, but he needed to hurry. Cynthia was going to be here any moment now. Surely enough, not even a minute later, the doorbell rang, signaling Cynthia’s arrival. John quickly drank his orange juice and tried to force the last of his food down his throat, not caring when he noticed his sister watching him with disgust written all over her face.

“I’ll get it.” Paul’s voice suddenly sounded from the hall. John felt himself tense up and he almost choked on his cereal. He quickly swallowed and grabbed his bag that was laying on the floor besides him. His movements were too fast, making his head ache once more, but he ignored it as he hurried to the door, not wanting to give Paul and Cynthia much time along, being afraid she might actually start to like him! And he couldn’t have that. It would make hating Paul around her even more difficult than it already was, and he needed to bitch about him because of last night.

“Ah, hello. You’re here for John, aren’t you?” John heard Paul ask from the hall. He quickly pecked his mother on her cheek and said goodbye to his sister, before rushing to the door.

“So you’re Cynthia. You’re a beautiful as John said you were, if you don’t mind me saying.” Paul complimented the girl standing in the doorway. She blushed and smiled as she noticed John appearing.

“No, I don’t mind.” She said softly, obviously flattered by the compliment, before waving at John. “Hi, John. You’re ready?” She asked. John nodded, his throat tightening when Paul turns to look at him, their eyes meeting, making it almost impossible for him to say anything. “Good.” Cynthia said.

“Now, take good care of him.” Paul said as he broke their eye contact to look at Cynthia again, smiling politely at her. “He came home drunk and beaten up last night. So if he’s being mean, it’s because of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She replied, smiling back herself. John rolled his eyes. It was obvious she liked Paul, with the way she kept pulling at the top button of her blouse and looking up at him with that shy, but still confident and playful look in her eyes. John remembered that look. It ended in the two of them having sex at Stuart’s place. Deciding he had had enough, he stepped in between them, taking Cynthia by the arm and saying it was best for them to leave now, if they didn’t want to be late.

“Yes, of course. I was nice meeting you, Cynthia. I hope this wasn’t the last time. john’s lucky having a girlfriend like you.” Paul said to her, winking.

“I’m not, actually. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, he’s still lucky.”

“Thank you, Mr McCartney. If only John would see that, too.” Cynthia said, nudging John playfully in the side. John only rolled his eyes again.

“Right. Well. We should go.” He said again, taking Cynthia with him as he started to walk down the garden path, away from his home.

“It was nice meeting you too, Mr McCartney!” Cynthia shouted back at the house, waving back as Paul raised his hand, as she allowed herself to be dragged away, snickering to herself as she heard John utter curses under his breath.

          “I can’t believe you just did that?” John exclaimed as he kicked away a stone. He walked with his head downcast, hands tucked in his pockets, not looking at the girl walking besides him.

“Did what?!”

“Oh, like you don’t know!”

“No, I don’t!” John stopped in his tracks and turned to her, shooting her an angry glare. When she didn’t say anything, he gave in and explained.

“You know, letting him flirt with you. I swear Cyn, he was this close to pushing you against the wall and kissing the life about of you!” He said, keeping his voice low as they were in public, but forceful enough to make it come across the way he wanted. Cynthia merely scoffed at the accusation.

“No, he wasn’t?! You’re just seeing what you want to see. You want him to be a dick and an arsehole so that’s what you saw! He was perfectly polite.” She told him, crossing her arms as she continued to walk.

“He was flirting with you?!” John told her, as if she was stupid, quickly following her.

“So? He knows how to make a girl feel good about herself. He was being nice and polite. Even if he was flirting, it was obvious he didn’t mean anything with it. He was only teasing me because he thought I was your girlfriend.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yes, he did. He-”

“He didn’t think you were my girlfriend, because he knows. About me.” John told her, speaking a lot softer and looking around himself to see if anyone was looking at them. No one was around. When Cynthia looked around, John looked down at the ground, feeling embarrassed. He pressed his fingers to his temples and started rubbing them as he felt his head hurting again.

“He knows? How?” Cynthia asked. John shrugged.

“I sorta told him. Last night.” He admitted. He started walking again, but Cynthia stopped him.

“Why?” She asked. John looked up at her. She was frowning and studying him closely, as if to look for any signs that he lost his mind. “You hate him. Why would you tell him.”

“Because…” John started, taking a deep breath, “I was drunk and he asked him, so I told him. I got beaten up by this dude in the loo at the cavern. He figured out why. Well, for a part, anyway.” Cynthia nodded at that, looking away and looking even more confused as she took this in.

“Do you think he’ll tell?” She asked. John shook his head.

“No, but-” He stopped himself mid-sentence. He sighed and shook his head, asking Cynthia wordlessly to let it go. Luckily she seemed to understand and they started walking again.

          “I’m sorry.” John said as they reached the school gates. Cynthia looked at him with confusion once again on her face. John sighed. “For just now. I know he didn’t mean anything with it. I’m just… I’m… “ John wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but Cynthia stopped him with a peck on the cheek.

“I know. You’re an idiot. Besides, you have any right to dislike the man. I guess I just don’t know how you feel right now. I’ve never had any new dads coming into my life.” She said, chuckling. John smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. Cynthia closed his eyes and let John do as he wanted, placing a hand on his shoulder to pull him closer.

“I like him, though. Your mum’s boyfriend.” She said as they broke apart. John grimaced, feeling confused why that made him feel sad, even a little angry. Still, he tried not to show.

“I know. I do, too, you know. But I still don’t like him.” He said instead.

          When John opened his eyes it was completely dark in his room. When he looked at the clock, he noticed it was half past one. He was in his room, laying on his bed. His shirt lay next to him on the ground, but he was still wearing his jeans and socks. It was completely quiet in the room. He tried to sit up, but found himself being pushed down again onto the bed by a hand on his chest.

“Just lay back.” A voice told him. It sounded like Eric’s, so John simply did as he was asked and laid back down, hummed approvingly as they hand started to move down his chest. He gasped as Eric’s fingertips rubbed over his nipples.

“You like that?” He asked, his voice low as he chuckled to himself. John smiled and nodded, moaning as Eric did it again, taking the little nub between two of his fingers and pinching gently, hard enough to make John feel it.

“Feels good…” John breathed, arching into the touch as he rolled with his hips, gasping again as he felt the bulge in his pants brush against something else. His eye shot open and he looked down to see a mop of brown hair right above his cock. The fingers that had been playing with his nipples moved further down, reaching the waistband of his jeans.

“Please…” John asked, rolling his hips into the man’s face again, groaning as his erection bumped against the man’s nose. A light giggling filled the air, before the man’s hands undid the buttons of his trousers and pulled them down along with his underwear. John huffed appreciatively as the cold air brushed his heated cock, making it twitch up into the man’s face. He groaned when the man, without another word, leaned down and kissed the tip of John’s erection, licking across the slit with his tongue, before letting the head slide into his velvety, hot mouth.

“Oh god… Yes…” John groaned, cocking his head back to look up at the white ceiling as he moved a hand down to tangle into the man’s silky, dark brown hair. He lightly pulled it backwards, encouraging the man to continue. He could feel the man smirk around his cock as he took him in further, obviously happy with the praise. John groaned again as the man sucked hard, before swallowing around him, taking him into his throat. John’s thighs trembled at the pleasurable feeling and already he could feel his orgasm approaching. When the man pulled off him, he gasped for a well needed breath.

“So good. Please…” John asked again, pulling at the man’s hair as a silently plea. He shuddered as the man licked a firm stripe from the base up to the tip.

“Watch me.” The sing-song voice told him, and John looked down as the man took him into his mouth once more, swallowing him down until he was buried to the hilt inside the man’s throat, his balls pushing against the man’s chin. The sight was beautiful, but John couldn’t see the man’s face properly, the man’s hair spoiling his view by hanging before his eyes. He moaned as the man began to suck, bobbing up and down his cock slowly, but in a nice rhythm. Wanting to see the man’s eyes, John reached down and pushed the man’s hair aside. He gasped and his body shook as his orgasm took him by surprise as he saw a pair of pretty brown puppy eyes look up at him.

“Shit… Paul…” John groaned, throwing his head back as he spilled himself inside Paul’s mouth, who simply moaned and drank it all, smiling happily when he pulled off with a pop. John smiled too and looked back down to see Paul crawling up over his body, placing his hands on either side of John’s head, before leaning down and capturing his mouth in a needy kiss. John moaned into the other man’s mouth and placed  his hands on Paul’s face, pulling him closer as he wrapped his legs around the man’s waist, pulling a breathless moan from the other man.

          “FUCK!” John exclaimed, his body jerking wide away at his own voice. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, until he noticed everyone looking at him with confused faces, although some of them were already laughing. When he looked up, he saw a very angry, old man looking down at him, squinting his eyes at him as he held his ruler threateningly in his hand.

“Do you think it’s funny to jerk off during my lesson, Mr Lennon?” The old man asked, sounding as terrifying and angry as he looked. John blinked a couple of times, still being confused on how he got here while he was only just getting a blow job from… Fuck! His eyes grew wide and his body jerked again as he realised he had been dreaming. About Paul. Fuck this was so wrong!

“N-no, sir.” John answered politely as he stared at the older man, his brain slowly wrapping itself around the fact that he had dreamed about his mother’s boyfriend giving him a blowjob. And a bloody damn good one too. Fuck, that Eric had really messed with his head! He shifted in his seat, feeling nauseous as well as nervous under the man’s gaze. He swallowed heavily, hoping to get rid of the feeling like he needed to throw up.

“As that may be, the fact remains that you were, and therefore you may now go the headmaster’s office. I don’t need to see you in my class anymore until the end of next week, do you understand me, Mr Lennon?” The teacher told him sternly, and John nodded, before quickly grabbing his bag and getting up. The teacher nodded to himself, before turning around and walking back to the front of the class where he started teaching again. He didn’t even look at John as he walked out. John didn’t know why he bothered teaching, as all the eyes were on him. He winked at a girl at the front of the glass who was pretending to not look at him. Immediately she blushed and looked down in shame. John chuckled at that, before walking out of the classroom and shutting the door behind him. Oh god, he was not looking forward to this. He reluctantly started to make his way to the headmaster’s office, thinking off a way to explain himself, as he did not want to be doing any stupid chores this weekend.

As he reached the door to the office, he still hadn’t thought of anything, his mind dragging itself back to his dream. He scolded his cock for reacting and hoped for the best as he opened to door and walked in.

* * *

 

Paul was busy marking homework assignments, when George walked in the teacher’s lounge with a grin on his face. Paul frowned at his friend as he took a seat across from without a word. He simply continued to grin at him, not speaking and only staring him right in the eye, making Paul rather uncomfortable.

“Er… hi?” He asked, shifting away from his friend a little. George’s grin only grew wider and in all honesty it started to scare him.

“How’s married life?” George asked. Paul was taken-aback by it, not having expected such an ordinary question when George was looking at him like that. It took him a while before he thought of what to say.

“Good. Different than I had expected, it the sense that I’m oddly unmarried for someone who’s living married life, but you know.” He said, narrowing his eyes at George and wondering if he had gone to his old dentist. The only that had slipped him some weird drug last time he went.

“Your wife just called.” George stated, obviously not having fully comprehended that Paul wasn’t married.

“She’s not my wife, Geo. Why did she call?” Paul asked with a sigh, looking back at the essay he was going through, just to have something to look at, since George was still staring at him.

“Ah, but you do know who I’m talking about.” George remarked, as if he’d just called Paul out on a lie. When Paul didn’t reply, he stopped staring and leaned closer a little, wanting his friend’s attention. “Apparently your stepson got into trouble again at school. He’s been suspended.” He explained, still grinning as if they were discussing some juicy gossip. Paul groaned and put down his pencil, before letting his head fall onto the table. God, he was getting fed up with John’s behavior. Why couldn’t the lad simply stay out of trouble for a few days? Why did he have to get himself suspended.

“Oh god. What did he do?”

“Dunno. Must be pretty bad. But anyway, she said she was working late so you have to find a suitable punishment and stuff. She hoped you’d be able to get home a bit sooner, too, but I told her you had to teach another class at three. She understood.” George said, the grin disappearing when he noticed Paul wasn’t in the mood for funny stories. Still, he thought he could always give it a shot. “Do you know what he did?” He asked, a little more excited now. Paul shook his head.

“I’m not sure I want to know.” Paul muttered, looking up at his friend, but keeping his head on the table.

“Apparently he had fallen asleep in class.” George started, the grin once again forming.

“That’s it?” Paul asked, frowning, “I’d say suspension is a bit much for simply falling asleep.”

“Well, yes, but no. He er… He got a wet dream and started moaning in class so loudly the teacher thought he was masturbating. According to the teacher he did have his hand underneath the desk.” George said, snickering into his hand. The giggles only got worse when he watched Paul’s eyes grow comically large.

“Oh dear! Poor lad.”

“Poor lad?! That shit is bloody hilarious!”

“No, but that must be terribly embarrassing!” Paul said, but he couldn’t help himself and soon he too started laughing, picturing the scene in his mind. He was glad no one else was in the teacher’s lounge, because their laughing only got worse.

“Oh shit. And now I’ve got to talk to him about it, too.” Paul laughed, placing his head in his hands.

“Yes, well, better than his mum, I’d say. At least you can sort of understand. Randy bastard, that you are.” George laughed, licking his lips. Paul tried to glare at him, but he couldn’t stop laughing. “Remember the time we first got in trouble?” George asked, his laughter dying down to the occasional chuckle. Paul grinned back at him, knowing fully well what he was talking about.

“No, because I didn’t get in trouble.” He said, stressing the ‘I’.

“Yeah, because you flirted the way out of it with your pretty looks and left me there to die!”

“You didn’t die?!”

“Got close enough.”  George said with a shrug. He looked around the room to make sure they really were alone before leaning in even closer. “You didn’t really kiss her, did you?” He asked, his cheeks flushing at the thought. Paul pulled a disgusted face.

“Ew! No! Just let her have a good look, you know. Acting all innocent and bending over a bit too much and biting my lip and unbuttoning a few shirt buttons and undoing my tie. Some suggestive moves and sentences and that was all. Of course I didn’t kiss her, she had the teeth of a horse!”

“You’re a slut.”

“But only for my own gain.”

“Still a slut.” George told him with a smirk and as revenge Paul threw his pencil at him. George tried to move away, but it still hit him.

“Piss off.” Paul growled, but still continued to laugh, knowing George was sort of right.

          “What are you going to do then? With John?” George asked, as they both had calmed down a little. Paul shrugged as he placed two mugs of coffee on the table, one for George and one for himself.

“I don’t know.” He sighed, sitting back down. He grabbed his own mug and held it in his hands, feeling the hotness radiating off it. He took a careful sip, the liquid still being hot. “I’ve never had to deal with teenages this way, you know. At school you can just let them pay detention or make them write some stupid line a few hundred times or send to the headmaster, you know. But this is different.” Paul explained, taking another sip. George nodded in understanding.

“I know. It was weird for me and Pattie, too, when our first got to that age. Especially because he was adopted, too.” He said, “You know, Julia did say could always just send him to his aunt’s for a few days.”

“I’m not going to have him life with Mimi for a few days. I’ve told Julia already what I think about that.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t seem right, you know, sending your child away. I can’t do it. Besides, it’s cowardly. You don’t want to deal with the consequences, so you send them away to let someone else deal with them and raise them. It’s like military school, but different.”

“I suppose. Of course, you could tell him he’s grounded?” George asked. Paul bit his lip, thinking it over in his head, which he shook after only a few seconds.

“No. I can’t get him grounded for simply having the wrong dream at the wrong time.” He said.

“What then? Just gonna have a talk?” George asked, chuckling at the ridiculous idea. He fell quiet when he saw Paul slowly nodding.

“Maybe. Until I’ve found something else. Or spoken about it with Julia.” He answered. George shook his head, but didn’t say anything and simply drank his coffee.

          John couldn’t stop smiling as he stepped out of the headmaster’s office. That had been one of the most uncomfortable and embarrassing conversations he had ever had with that man, but it had been worth it. He got suspended for two days, starting Monday after that he had to pay detention for another two afternoons, but it had been worth it. Just to see that flushed, red face of that man as he stammered over his words, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, even simply staring down at his desk, only to not have to look him in the eye. It had been hilarious. Especially the way the headmaster had nearly choked to death on his tea when John had told him about his dream. Not in detail, of course. He wasn’t going to tell him he had had a sexy dream about his mother’s boyfriend. In fact he wasn’t going to tell anyone! He was simply going to blame it on his teenage hormones and push it as far back in his mind as was possible, so he would never have to be reminded of it ever again. Sounded like a good plan! What could go wrong?

He sighed as he thought about what to do next. He could go and try to find Stuart to hang out with until he’d be forced to go home? Or he could go home, but he really didn’t want to. Not if the school had managed to contact his mother already. His head was still aching and he still felt sick and slightly hung-over from last night, so he really didn’t want to deal with that just yet. This was also the reason why he couldn’t go to Mimi’s before his mother would send him there (which he knew for sure that she would, after all the trouble he had caused). If fact, going to Mimi with a hangover in itself was a bad idea. So yes, finding Stuart was still his best option, but for some reason he didn’t feel like meeting up with him. He wanted to be alone for a second, have some peace on his mind before his mother would lecture him and send him to Mimi’s only to be lectured again.

Grabbing his stuff and coat from his locker, John decided to go to Strawberry Fields, have a nap and smoke some cigarettes, before returning home and hoping for the best. Perhaps if he’d offer to do some chores, he’d get off easier. He wrote a note for Stuart and left it in his locker, before pulling on his jacket, grabbing his bag and walking out of the school to get his bike and cycle to Strawberry Fields. It was only two in the afternoon, so it would be rather quiet there. John already felt the ache in his brain die down at the thought of peaceful silence around him.

          When Paul got home, John wasn’t there yet. Paul had already expected that, knowing for sure John wasn’t looking forward to coming home after getting suspended for two days. It was a quarter past four and Julia wouldn’t be home until late that evening, probably around ten-ish. Jules was at a friend’s house, and he wouldn’t need to pick her up until eight, which gave him and John plenty of time to talk about what happened, before they’d be interrupted. Knowing John, he’d be home for dinner still, so Paul took off his coat and shoes, put away his stuff for work and dropping a pile of homework to mark on the small desk in the living room, before grabbing himself a nice cold beer and flopping down onto the couch. He laid back, put his feet on the coffee table and simply sat there for a while, his head cocked back and resting against the wall as he drank his beer.

Sometimes Paul really needed some peace and quiet around him. He liked to hear nothing for awhile, to simply enjoy the silence surrounding him and focussing on his breathing. George had once told him start meditating and though he had dismissed the idea at first, it started to sound more and more appealing to him. George did say it would really put him at ease and sometimes he’d even reach that higher form of consciousness. Pattie had found him a few times in a trance. When that happened he’d only be awoken by a certain sound, which could be made by lightly tapping some kind of bowl. Paul remembered the time they had lost the bowl and he and Pattie spend two full hours looking for the damn thing, and by the time they had found it, George had already awoke by himself. He chuckled softly to himself and drank some more of his beer, enjoying the way the cool drink ran down his throat and washed away the nasty taste of the coffee they had at school. He took another deep breath and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find patterns. Once he had found something that faintly resembled Elvis, he looked back down, took his feet off the coffee table and drank the last of his beer.

Half an hour had gone by by the time Paul had finished his beer. He stood up, walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, before walking up the stairs. He went where his legs took him. Although he wasn’t sure why he stopped at John’s room, he still cautiously opened the door, being slightly scared what to find there. To his surprise John’s room was rather neat. It was clean and only a little messy with only a few socks and t shirts scattered around the place, together with some pieces of papers, but not enough for it to come across as messy. Simply as used.

John’s bed was a small single bed. It was pushed against the same wall as the door was situated and the the top was pushed against the window, with just enough of a gap for the curtains to hang between. His desk was placed next to the window and seemed oddly tidy. There were stacks of papers and books and a few pencils and crayons were scattered across it, but pushed away to the sides, to leave enough room to work. A small desk lamp sat on the side, the head faced towards the little notebook right in front of the chair. On the other side of the room stood a large closet with another small table, with a record player on it next to John’s guitar. On the other side of it it lay a stack of albums and singles.

Curious, Paul walked over to it and went through him. Most of it was rock ‘n roll. Elvis, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino’s, but also some more obscure ones that Paul didn’t know. He looked over to John’s guitar and picked it up. He sat down on John’s bed and placed the guitar in his lap. It had been awhile since he had last played on a right-handed guitar, but he was sure he could manage. He lightly strummed a G- chord, wanting to get a feel for the guitar. He grimaces as he didn’t even hear anything that could even resemble a G chord. He shook his head and started tuning John’s guitar. Paul wasn’t sure when John tuned it last, but he really should do it more often. Paul had never seen or heard a guitar this out-of-tune. It was terrible. It took him almost four minutes to tune the first string, not having a piano nearby to give himself a good tone to tune with, so he needed to do this on his own. The fact that he was tuning it upside down, didn’t help much either. The next string went easier, but still took him a few minutes. Still, Paul didn’t mind too much, liking the fact that he now had something to do until John came home.

          Spending some time alone at Strawberry Fields, had been a great idea. John had felt more awake, happier and less cranky already when he finished his first cigarette. When he had taken a forty-minute  nap, he felt even better, his headache being almost gone and his body hurting less. His eyes still hurt, but he figured that would take awhile to heal. At least more than half a day! He had been looking up at the sky, when the first dark, water-filled clouds appeared, blocking out the beautiful blue hue of the sky and turning it a dull grey. At first, John had simply rolled over onto his belly and played with grass underneath him. But soon it had started to get chilly and the wind had picked up speed, making John shiver as he lay on the cool grass. He got up on his feet, put on his jacket again and grabbed his stuff, before heading back home.

Even in the streets it was quiet for a Friday afternoon. Looking up at the sky, John realised he had to hurry up. It looked like it was going to storm any minute, which probably explained the lack of people in the street. He cycled as quickly as he could, not stopping for a few traffic lights and cutting off an old woman who was cycling way to slowly. John could hear her mumble something about the rudeness of the new generation and how it was going to ruin the great life they had, but it only made John snicker, his good mood now having taken over his brain.

Once he finally got home, the first few drops of rain had already started to fall. Quickly, John put his bike in the shed and walked inside through the backdoor, not wanting to get wet. When he realised the whole livingroom was empty, he frowned. He had expected his mother to be waiting for him, or at least his little sister to welcome him, but he quickly remembered that his mother was working late and his sister was at a friend’s house. Still, he didn’t know where Paul was. He noticed Paul’s bag standing by the desk and a stack of papers, which John guessed was homework, on it, which meant he was home. He took off his own coat and shoes, which he placed by the door and put his bag underneath the coat rack. He wasn’t going to need that one for a few days. It was practically a small holiday. John checked the kitchen to see if Paul was in there, but that room was empty as well. Shrugging, John walked up the stairs and to his room. Paul was probably doing shopping or something. He’d be back. Maybe he didn’t even know about what had happened at school.

When he reached his door, he heard someone play guitar inside. Paul was inside his room? What was he doing inside his room! No one was allowed inside except if you had his permission and John didn’t remember giving Paul any. Feeling himself get angry again, he pushed the door open, to find Paul sitting on his bed with his guitar in his lap. John frowned as he realised he was flipped it around. Paul could play a right-handed guitar? The guy was good, then! Quickly, though, he pushed the surprise from his mind as Paul looked up at him, their eyes meeting. His breath hitched his throat as he spoke.

“Wha-what are you doing here?!” John spoke, sounding more surprised than angry, but Paul could see he wasn’t happy to see him in his room. Paul couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have been happy either. Quickly, he put the guitar aside and stood up.

          “I was waiting for you to get home.” He explained. He continued when he saw John glancing at his guitar. “It was out-of-tune, so I thought I’d tune it for you.” He tried to keep his voice steady and calm, even though he felt like he had been caught doing something John should never had seen. He didn’t do anything when John reached for his guitar and quickly put it back in his spot, before stepping in front of it, shielding it with his body.

“Get out of my room.” John told Paul, his eyes wide. Paul sighed and took a step closer to the younger man.

“I’m sorry for touching your guitar and invading your room, John. I won’t do it again, if you do not want me to, but we still need to talk.” He tried, but John shook his head.

“Get the hell out!” He shouted and Paul quickly did as he asked. He grabbed his glass from John’s desk and hurried out of John’s room.

“I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to talk about what happened at school, John. But don’t think you’ll be getting dinner before we’ve spoken, understood?” He asked, but John didn’t say anything. Paul only nodded and closed the door to John’s room behind him, not waiting for an answer, and descending the stairs to the living room to read a book until John was ready to talk. He knew he shouldn’t bother with trying to calm John down. It would only make things worse. Just leaving him be, was probably for the best.

          John stood in the middle of his room, staring at the spot  where Paul just been sitting on his bed. His throat was sore from the sudden shout, and he tried to swallow to soothe it. He shouldn’t have been shouting at Paul. He realised that. It had been out-of-line. The guy had only been sitting on his bed, tuning his guitar. He didn’t know no one but he could touch his guitar. Besides, Paul had taken him by surprise. There had been something strangely intimate of having Paul sitting on his bed like that, with his guitar on his lap. The sight alone had scared him, his head having filled up with inappropriate thoughts almost immediately. Thoughts of him and Paul sitting there together, playing together. Or seeing Paul sit there and play his guitar as he sang songs just for him. In private with no one else around. Just the two of them. The idea had made his heart speed up in his chest and a warm, fuzzy feeling had spread over his entire body. He shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t allow himself to feel that way, let alone to think that way! So he had screamed and now Paul was gone together with the fuzzy feeling, which had been replaced with a cold one.

He sighed deeply and grabbed his guitar, placing it in his own lap as he sat on the bed, next to the spot where Paul had been sitting. He strummed a few chords, frowning at the sound of it. It sounded strange. The first few strings sounded beautifully in tune, while the other strings didn’t sound like anything, really. It ruined every chord he tried to play and John wondered how he had been able to play this guitar before. Paul had tuned it for him. But he hadn’t been done, yet. There were three strings that needed tuning. John tried it himself for a few minutes, before giving up. He couldn’t do it.

          Paul had been too engulfed in his book to hear John coming down the stairs. Only when the younger boy cleared his throat, Paul looked up from his book. John was standing in the doorway, his guitar in his hand and a blush on his cheek. His fingers moved nervously along the neck of the guitar, but Paul didn’t comment on it.

“I-” John started, but his voice broke off, “It’s out of tune.” He said instead, matter-of-factly. Paul nodded, putting the book away and sitting up. John licked his lips and looked down at his guitar, as if he wanted it to speak for him. “You were tuning it.” John continued, still looking down at the guitar. Paul nodded again, not caring if John could see him do so or not. He saw John taken a deep breath and muttering something to himself, before he looked up, his eyes meeting Paul’s.

“Can you teach me?” He asked, giving Paul a shy smile as he cocked his head questioningly to the side. Paul blinked a few times as he stared at the younger man, not having expected the question. He heard John sigh in relief when he nodded.

“Sure.”


	6. Chapter 6

Paul eyed the boy curiously as he sat down next to him on the other end of the couch. He moved to place the guitar in his lap, but stopped mid-air and looked over at Paul. He seemed to doubt himself for a few seconds, before offering the guitar to Paul, who took it from him. It was odd, seeing John like this. Shy almost, if that was at all possible for John to be. In a weak attempt to break the uncomfortable tension, Paul smiled and moved a little closer to John, who quickly looked down at his guitar in Paul’s hands.

“Alright. Now I’ve already tuned the E, A and D string for you, so we will continue with the G string. It’s the one 4th from the top.” Paul said, tracing the strings with his index finger as he listed them. He looked up to see John nodding and staring at his fingers intently, obviously eager to learn. Paul couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling happy that for once they weren’t arguing.

“To tune it properly, we need a reference tone. You use the D string for that one. If you place your index finger on the fifth fret, you get a G note.” Paul continued, placing his finger on the tuned D string and plucking it. John nodded again, leaning in a little closer to see it more properly.

“All you have to do now is pluck the two strings alternatively and adjust the G string until the two notes sound exactly the same.” Paul started plucking the strings as he looked down at the guitar, turning the peg and listening closely. “If you tighten the string, it gets higher; if you loosen it, it will get lower. It’s all practise really. Once you’ve done this a few times, it’s easy.” Paul said, turning the peg until the two notes sounded exactly the same. When he looked up, John was staring at him with awe, smiling and nodding excitedly, now finally understood what he had been trying to figure out for years. Smiling proudly, Paul plucked the first four strings to let John hear what they sounded like now. When John didn’t say anything, Paul decided it was time for him to try. He let go of the strings and twisted the peg around a few more times, messing the once perfectly tuned string up again. John frowned in confusement

             “Here, you try.” Paul said, handing John his guitar back, who continued to frown as he tried hard to remember what Paul had told him. “Remember, the fifth fret of the third string is a G.” He smiled encouragingly at John, who gave a weak nod as he placed the guitar in his lap. Only then did John realise Paul hadn’t flipped the guitar around when he had tuned it, like he had in his room. His confusement must have been clearly written on face, because Paul asked him if there was anything wrong. John shook his head.

“No, just… I thought you were left-handed.” He said, placing his finger on the fifth fret and plucking it a few times to hear what it sounded like. He could see Paul watching his fingers from the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, but I can play on a right-handed one if need be. Sort of had to learn, considering there aren’t that many left-handed guitars.” The older man explained, nodding when John started to tighten the G string.

“But, why didn’t you flip it. Like before?” John asked, his voice oddly quiet. He wanted to hit himself for acting like such an idiot around the other man. What was he so shy about anyway? The guy was teaching him to tune his guitar. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Except for the fact that John was reminded of his dream everytime he looked at him. Especially when he looked at those pouty lips.

“I figured it’d be easier for you to understand. Besides, tuning a guitar isn’t that difficult. It’s the playing that is a challenge if I don’t flip it.” Paul explained, drawing John away from his thoughts. “That’s too tight. Loosen it a little. Just a little.” He said, shuffling even closer to John, until John could feel the man’s body heat next to him. His breath hitched, but he tried not to let it show, and simply did as Paul asked. His fingers were shaking lightly, however, and he loosened it too much, making Paul chuckle.

“Not that much. Just a tiny bit.” He said and John nodded, taking in a deep breath, before turning the peg just right. He smiled broadly as the two strings sounded the exact same.

“Yes! That’s it. Not that difficult, is it?” Paul asked, smiling just as broadly, if not broader and John felt his body tingle all over as he looked up at Paul, meeting his eyes. He felt proud.

“Do you want to do the next one?” Paul asked, still smiling. John nodded. “Alright. Now, the one below the G string is the B string. Now for this one, you use the fourth fret of the string above it, rather than the fifth. For all the others you use the fifth as well, but for the B string, you use the fourth fret. It works the exact same as with the G string. You think you can do that?” Paul asked and John nodded, already placing his finger in the right position. Paul grinned to himself, before standing up.

“Good. You do that and I’ll make us some tea, okay?” He asked. John answered without looking up, being far too excited about finally figuring out how to tune the damn thing.

“I’d rather have a beer.” He said. Paul chuckled and nodded, before walking towards the kitchen with a large smile on his face.

“Alright. Beer it is.”

          Paul couldn’t stop smiling as he got him and John a cold beer from the fridge. It was odd how different John was when he was comfortable and actually nice to him. Paul felt his was making progress here with John. After last night, when John had opened up to him, his attitude towards had seemed to have changed, for which Paul was glad. He couldn’t wait to tell Julia he had taught John how to tune his guitar and that they had actually had a nice time together alone. Of course, everything could still change. John had still been shouting at him not fourty minutes ago and he still needed to talk to John about what had happened at school. But progress was progress, right? Paul whistled a light melody as he walked back into the living room to see John hunched over the guitar, trying to tune the last string. He was learning fast! Paul couldn’t help but laugh when he saw John was actually frowning and looking rather angrily at his guitar as he couldn’t get the E string to sound right. Paul quickly saw the problem.

“Fifth fret, John. Only when you’re tuning the B string do you use the fourth.” He sat, placing his beer on the coffee table, before sitting back down next to John, who flushed a light pink, as he quickly moved his finger one fret further.

Within two minutes, the whole guitar was tuned and John was strumming some simply chords as he continued to smile smugly to himself, obviously being pleased with his new ability to tune guitars.

“Happy?” Paul asked as he took a sip of his beer. John nodded happily.

“Yeah. Thanks. Mum tried to teach me once, but I couldn’t figure it out.”

“Good thing I’m here then.” Paul muttered, being a little unsure if he was pushing it too much. When John didn’t answer, and simply continued to play guitar, Paul concluded he was alright. He listened to the younger man play for awhile, enjoying the way he seemed to switch easily between songs without ever stopping, turning it into one large medley. Still, Paul heard a few mistakes every so often, and although John did play the right chords, he’d sometimes play a few banjo chords. Of course, he could always teach John the right ones if he wanted. He hoped he would. He enjoyed this.

          However, as time ticked on, Paul soon felt himself growing a little fidgety. He still had to talk to John about his suspension, but he really didn’t want to. Things were finally going so well, and John seemed actually at ease with him at the moment, still playing his guitar and sometimes stopping to listen if everything was still in tune. It was almost adorable.

“John?” Paul asked, deciding he’d better get it over with. Besides, he did say John wasn’t going to get any dinner before they’d talked about it and it was close to six o’clock already. John looked up at him, his hands still playing the guitar. Their eyes met and Paul licked his lips nervously, noticing they were dry.

“We still need to talk about what happened at school today.” He said matter-of-factly, putting up the voice he used when he was talking to his students, serious and clear, but friendly and calm. The music stopped and John looked away from him as he realised what he was talking about. Paul sighed before he continued.

“I heard what happened from the headmaster, but I want to give you the opportunity to explain for yourself.” He spoke, leaning forward a bit and folding his hands on his lap. John stayed quiet, staring down at the floor, looking as if he was thinking really hard about something. Paul didn’t say anything else, wanting John to speak on his own when he was ready to. Instead he simply waited and studied John carefully.

          John wasn’t sure what to do or say next. He knew Paul was waiting for him to say something, but what was there to say? _‘I’m sorry, I dreamed about you in class and the teacher thought I was jerking off, but really I was only dreaming about you giving me a blow job, so really it could be worse.’_? He couldn’t say that! He was never even supposed to dream about anything like that ever! Wherever! Nevermind in class. It was all just Eric’s fault. The stupid git had told him he liked Paul. ‘That way’. Sure! The thought made him scoff, but then he realised he was sitting here, laughing and enjoying himself with Paul. Or at least, before Paul had brought up this issue. Maybe he- No! No, don’t ever think that.

“I fell asleep during class.” John heard himself say, his voice tight. He continued to look down at the ground, not wanting to meet Paul’s eyes as he remembered his dream in sudden flashes, making it difficult for him to think. His fingers tightened around the neck of the guitar. “I was still tired from yesterday and with the hangover and all… I fell asleep and had a dream and was sent to the headmaster. That is all.” John continued after a while. He put his guitar aside and moved to pick up his beer to drink. He quickly drank half of it, before sitting back, one legs resting on his other as he played with the bottle in his hands.

“Do I have to go to Mimi’s now?” He asked, his voice a little too wobbly for his liking.

“No.” Was the simply answer he was given. He looked up at Paul in surprise, looking him straight in the eye. He opened his mouth to say something, ask why not after all the trouble he caused, but no sound came out. Paul sighed, standing up to walk around the room, just so he wouldn’t have to sit down much longer. John followed him with his eyes.

          “Honestly, I don’t know what to do with you. I mean, I told you to go to school, so in a way it could even be my fault.” He said, chuckling to himself. John didn’t laugh along, instead he simply stared.  

“Okay, listen. If you promise me that you won’t get in trouble for the next two weeks, and I mean no trouble at all. No swearing around your sister, no fights, no smart-ass remarks, no arguments and keep out of trouble at school as well, I’ll let you go off easy. Then, all you have to do is stay at home tomorrow evening to look after your little sister while your mum and me go out for dinner and visit your aunt, doesn’t matter when. You’re already suspended and have to pay detention. Along with this, I think it’ll be fine. But one misstep and you’ll be grounded for a week, understood?” Paul said sternly, looking John straight in the eye and not giving him a chance to look away. John swallowed thickly, but the corners of his mouth still curled up in a small smile. He bit his lip and thought it over for a few minutes, before nodding ‘yes’.

“Fine.” He said his voice tight and small and Paul couldn’t help but sigh in relief. When John stood up to leave, Paul didn’t stop him.

“I’ll call for you when dinner’s ready.” He said and he could still catch John nodding, before he disappeared out of the door. Paul let himself fall down onto the piano stool and started to mindlessly play a tune, before deciding he’d better start making dinner if he still wanted to be on time to pick up Jules. He was happy that at least it hadn’t turned into a fight, although John didn’t seem that comfortable with him at the end. Still, progress was progress.

          John quickly shut the door behind him as he entered his bedroom. He didn’t know what had happened, but his body was shaking and he couldn’t stop smiling. His knees were wobbly and his crotch… John groaned as he palmed himself through his trousers, biting his lips to keep his noises muffled. Images of his dream were still racing through his mind, of Paul lying there between his legs, his head pressed against his crotch, of the way Paul’s nose had bumped awkwardly against his cock,  the way he had dragged his underwear down and the way he slid his cock into his mouth, down to the hilt, how he looked, looking up at him with his hazel puppy eyes and those luscious lips stretched around his cock, or the way he had come in his mouth, making Paul swallow it down and how he had kissed him, his lips so plump and soft.  

“Fuck…” John moaned to himself, his eyes fluttering close as he pressed his palm down a little harder. And then the way Paul had spoken to him just, so strict and serious, but still… Paul-like, for the lack of a better word. His mind had been racing when Paul had told him he wouldn’t be in trouble, if he did what he asked of him. In different words of course, but still. Hastily, John opened the buttons of his trousers and forced a hand inside, down his boxers. He took himself in his hand and gave himself a couple of long strokes in quick session. He threw his head back with another groan as the pleasure began to build up inside him, his ball already tightening. He knew he shouldn’t do this.

He knew it was wrong what he did, wanking off to the thought of your mother’s boyfriend sucking you off and punishing you, but John wanted it. He wanted it so bad, he didn’t care anymore. If anything, the wrongness of it only made it better. His heart was racing and his arm grew tired by his rapid movements and his legs began to tremble. He rubbed the head of his cock with his thumb, circling it and pressing down into the slit to gather more precum to make the slide easier. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He rolled with his hips, fucking his fist and moaned again, Paul’s name rolling off his tongue. It wasn’t long until he came, spilling into his hand and soiling his underwear as he groaned out Paul’s name again, his head rolling against the door, his knees almost giving out under him by the intensity of his orgasm. Fuck, he was in trouble.

          John let himself slide down the door as he removed his hand from his underwear. It was all sticky. Looking around the room, he cursed to himself as he couldn’t find anything to wipe his hand on. The closest shirt was lying next to his bed, but John really didn’t feel like moving right now. He wasn’t sure if he could even. He took a deep breath and laid in his hand on his underwear, that was still visible through his opened trousers. He still felt euphoric, the orgasm being one of the best he ever had. However, guilt and shame was slowly creeping back up. He had wanked off to the idea of Paul sucking him off. How fucked- up was he? The guy was twenty-five years older than him or something?! How could he feel this way? Eric had been right, though. Stupid arse. He did like Paul. Hell, he got turned on when the guy was giving him a punishment for his behaviour. And even now his spent cock gave a slight twitch as the memory. He was fucked-up. Besides, the whole thing was completely stupid. Paul was twenty-five years older than him, his mum’s boyfriend and a guy. The last would only have been a slight inconvenience as John knew he was attracted to men anyway, but the point was, Paul was straight. He had told him so. John had asked him, too! But… he hadn’t looked too shocked or disgusted when John had told him he fancied men, so perhaps… no it was stupid. Besides it was best not to get his hopes up. It would never work out, even if something did happen.

He took another deep breath and carefully raised to his feet. His legs were still wobbly, but he managed. He grabbed himself a clean pair of underpants, before sneaking off to the bathroom, not wanting to get caught the way he was. He managed to make it to the bathroom unnoticed, where he quickly cleaned himself and put on the clean pair of boxer shorts. At least he got the sexual frustration out of his system. Now it was only a matter of keeping himself in check whenever he was around the other man. He should be able to manage, right? He had done it before. Suddenly Paul called up from beneath the stairs, shouting at him that dinner was ready. John’s stomach growled at the good news, but his cock gave a little twitch too as John shuddered at the sound of that voice. Deep, slight accent, but still with a little London influence in there. It sounded so clear, so smooth. John growled in frustration. No, this wasn’t going to be easy.

* * *

 

To John’s surprise, however, dinner went rather well. Save the fact that he caught himself staring at the other man and thinking inappropriately about him every once in a while, especially at the beginning. He was managing to keep himself under control and focussed on the discussion and food rather well.  

Paul had cooked again and like always it tasted great. He had seen Paul crook an eyebrow as he eagerly started to shove the food into his mouth, making it difficult for himself to swallow properly, but he didn’t care anymore whether Paul knew he enjoyed his cooking or not. It was good and he was hungry, that was all that mattered. To his surprise Paul hadn’t called him out on it or told him to eat a bit more properly, but had only chuckled at his eagerness, before taking a rather large bite as well, obviously being just as hungry.

They even made small talk, cracked jokes and playfully teased each other every so often, or simply talked about whatever it is that came to mind. All in all, John enjoyed himself and soon his punishment and embarrassingly useless crush was forgotten, that is until Paul told him he had made dessert. Of course, that hadn’t been the reason for John to start feeling all flustered and giddy. That would be weird.

“H-how did you learn to do it, anyway? The guitar and piano? How do you know how to play?” John asked as Paul stood bended over to grab something from the oven, giving John a full view of his perfect arse. That was the reason he started to feel flustered and giddy. The sight of that round arse made John wiggle in his seat, remembering his quick wanking session upstairs. He tried to look away, but couldn’t and had to bite his lip not to start moaning right there. He was actually relieved when Paul stood up straight again and started to slice the cake he had made. Again, it smelled delicious.

“I got a trumpet for my birthday from my parents when I turned fourteen. I traded it for a guitar quickly after.” Paul explained as he worked, oblivious to the way John was ogling him.

“Why?” John asked, biting down harder when Paul leaned forward to grab a better knife from the knife block. This was going to be difficult, John thought as his gaze was lowered to Paul’s bum again. He could understand why his mother had decided to go out with Paul. The guy was fucking nice and talented, as well as gorgeous. John wondered why he hadn’t seen it sooner.

“Couldn’t sing with a trumpet in my mouth now, could I?” Paul answered with a smirk as he turned back around to the younger man at the table, holding two plates with a piece of cake on both. Quickly, John looked back up. When he saw the pieces of cake, he smiled and licked his lips.

“Looks good?” Paul asked with a laugh, and John could only nod as he felt his cheeks flush. Paul simply grinned at him and put the plates down at the table, before sitting back down himself.

“My father was a musician, actually. Pianist and trumpetist. Was in a jazz band and all. They even were rather famous for a while, just in England of course, but still. He taught me how to play the piano and a bit of the trumpet, until I traded it. The guitar I learned on my own. Me and George were already friends so we sort of learned together by ear.”

“Your father didn’t mind?”

“That I traded his trumpet? At first, I guess. But he was always very supportive. I don’t think he minded too much. Now eat your cake. I have to pick up your sister soon.” Paul said as he took a quick look at the clock hanging behind John. John didn’t say anything in reply and simply started eating the cake, marveling at the softness and the taste of it. It was a simple cake, but very well made. He tried not the giggle at the thought of Paul playing the trumpet, but soon he couldn’t stop himself. Paul didn’t need to ask to know what he was giggling about.

“Nice to know you find it hilarious as well. You and George would make a good team. He laughed too when he heard me first play.” He said bitterly, but John knew he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… you must’ve looked ridiculous with that thing in your mouth, trying to sing at the same time. Trying to be just like Louis Armstrong!” John laughed even louder as he said it aloud, not missing the way the older man’s cheeks seemed to flush.

“How nice of you. I’d have you know I was pretty good, too.”

“Of course you were.” John snickered, still picturing a fourteen-year-old version of the man in front of him, trying to play trumpet while his younger friend played guitar behind him with an amused smirk on his face. And his dad smiling proudly, of course. Would he have been chubby as a kid? That would’ve only made things better.

“Alright. I’m not going to sit here any longer and have you laugh at me. I’ll go and pick up your sister. You finish your cake and do the dishes. You can have mine too, if you want.” Paul said, still trying to sound pissed, but a light chuckle still escaped his lips. He got up from his seat, pushed his plate towards John and went to get his coat. For a second it looked like Paul would ruffle his hair or even kiss the top of his head to say goodbye and John’s body tensed up as he looked up at Paul expectantly, his laughter still sounding through the kitchen. Paul bit his lip, before looking away and simply patting John on the shoulder, as he muttered a goodbye. John followed him with his eyes as the man walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Within a minute, John could hear the door being pulled shut again. He sighed in relief.

            As soon as Paul had shut the car door, he let out a deep breath he had been holding and slumped down in his seat. He closed his eyes and rubbed with both hands over his face. What had happened there? He asked himself as he stared up at the ceiling of the car. His fingers were shaking slightly when he reached into the pocket of his coat to grab himself a ciggy. He had not seriously…?  He had, though. He had wanted to ruffle John’s hair, which looked adorable when he wasn’t wearing any gell, and had even wanted to go as far as kiss his forehead, before leaving. How could he think such things? He and John didn’t even get along! Or did they?

Honestly, Paul felt confused. He took a long drag from his cigarette and let the smoke roll around in his lungs for a while, before blowing it out again, letting the smoke fill up the car. That must have been the reason for his crazy thoughts. He was just confused. The relationship between John and him had changed drastically since John had come home drunk and beaten up. Or actually, it had changed since he had listened to him play that one time when he had been writing that song. And the fact that John had come out to him and had allowed his to teach him to how tune his guitar had made way for all kinds of new emotions between the two of them. Paul wasn’t even sure what he was feeling at the moment, but he knew he didn’t like it. He knew he shouldn’t feel it.

He took another drag and rolled down a window, before starting up the engine and driving off. He had just been confused because he and John were suddenly a lot closer. That didn’t mean John would be comfortable with that intimate way of touching. If he ever would be. He took another drag and decided not to dwell on it any longer. Nothing happened anyway. Nothing had changed. Besides, he couldn’t wait to tell Julia that he and John were getting along a lot more now. She’d be thrilled, he was sure.

            John didn’t come down any more once Paul had come home. It would probably not be a good idea. He figured that if he wanted to get over the stupid crush of his, he’d have to spend as little time possible with him. Especially when they were alone, because he couldn’t keep his eyes off the other man and if anyone would notice, he’d be in big trouble. And even more so if Paul would find out, of which there was a higher risk when it was only the two of them.

He could hear Paul and Jules play downstairs and he listened quietly when Paul began to play and sing a few songs for her, as John lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. How could this have happened? Only a few days ago he had hated the man’s guts and now he was jerking off to him. Obviously, it hadn’t been all Eric’s fault. They guy had only let him know what he thought was really going on, so there must have been some of those perverted feeling flowing around in his body before then. But he didn’t know where they had come from. Or when they had invaded his body. Maybe he was overthinking this too much anyway. Maybe, it would all be gone in a few days time. Oh, John hoped so. When he heard his mother come home, he decided to take a shower and go to bed, even though it was still early for a Friday evening.

            “So how did the talk between you and John go?” Julia asked her boyfriend as she slipped in into bed besides him. She had just checked in on John and had been surprised to find him asleep. Paul hummed and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, taking in her smell.

“It went fine. I told John that if he’d babysit his sister tomorrow evening and would visit his aunt some time this week, he won’t be grounded, but if he got into trouble, he would be for a week. He agreed.” Paul muttered against her skin as he started to kiss her neck, suckling wetly on her skin. Julia moaned at the feeling and smiled.

“Are you sure you’ve been talking to John?” She asked teasingly. Paul didn’t even answer and simply moved his kisses a little more to the front until he was kissing her throat, breathing out her name.

“Wait? Babysit? Why would he babysit Julia?” She asked as Paul continued his ministrations, his fingers now fumbling with the fabric of her night shirt, wanting desperately to take it off and kiss her beautiful breasts.

“Hmm, yes. I’m taking you out tomorrow evening. Just the two of us. Romantic dinner, good wine, perhaps a movie and then we can come back late and make out on the couch without anyone bothering us. Just the two of us. What do you say?” Paul explained, lifting up the shirt a little and exposing Julia’s belly button. He kissed her lips once more, nibbling lightly on her bottom lip, before kissing his way down, all the way down to her belly button. She growled sexily when he licked into it, his hands caressing her sides, making her squirm beautifully on the bed.

“Best idea you’ve had in awhile.” She muttered softly, arching her back into Paul’s touch, who grinned up at her, before taking off her shirt the rest of the way, exposing her pale chest. Gently he cupped one of her breasts in the palm of his hand and lightly let his thumb rub over his nipple. He moved up to kiss when she let out another moan.

“So, date’s all set?” He asked, just to be sure. He didn’t ask again when she grabbed his head with both hands and forced their lips together again, her tongue making it’s way into Paul’s warm mouth. He grinned against her lips when she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

            “But I don’t need a babysitter! I’m fine!” Jules exclaimed when her mother told her she and Paul would be out all evening and John would be home to take care of her.

“Come on, Jules. I just want to be sure you’re safe. And John’s here, anyway.”  Julian tried, kneeling down before he daughter, who sat pouting on the couch.

“No, he wouldn’t. He always goes out with Stuart on Saturday evenings. Or goes over to Cynthia to work on some school stuff. He doesn’t want to be here and I can be alone for one evening, mum. I’m not a little kid, anymore! I’m ten!” Jules pointed out. When she said she would feel safer knowing John was at home, too, she turned away from her mother. Julia sighed when Jules didn’t say anything back and simply started to ignore her. She turned to look at Paul, not knowing what else to do. Paul walked over to Jules and sat down next to her.

“I’m not a little kid.” Jules repeated again and Paul nodded in agreement, surprising both girls.

“Oh I know. Actually, we don’t really think you need a babysitter.” Paul told Jules, smiling as he searched for her eyes. When he found them they were glancing up at him with mistrust.

“Really,” Paul continued as he held her gaze, “John got suspended and isn’t allowed out of the house, so we need you to babysit him.” Paul winked at her. Jules frowned at that.

“Me? Babysitting John?” She asked. As she said the words, her face seemed to light up in sadistic pleasure at the thought of being her older brother’s babysitter. She grinned at the thought. “I like that.” She admitted and Paul’s smile broadened. He looked over at Julia who was watching with curiosity.

“Good. Can you do that for us? We don’t want him to go anywhere tonight. It’s his punishment, you see.” He said, lowering his voice to almost a whisper to add a bit of secrecy.

“Do I get paid?” Jules asked, looking up at Paul excitedly, rubbing her hands together greedily. The sight made Paul laugh and he could easily see how she was John’s little sister. He nodded, giving into her.

“If you can keep him inside the house without letting him know about our little deal, I’ll give you two shillings. How does that sound?” He asked and the girl’s face lit up at that. She nodded yes eagerly, smiling up broadly at Paul.

“You can’t tell him you’re his babysitter, though. He’ll try to get out for sure if he knows, alright?” Julia brought in and Jules turned to her with the same smile.

“Yes, m’am.” She said, saluting her and Paul chuckled at the sight.  

“Good luck, Jules. We’re counting on you!” He said, kissing the top of her head, before walking back to Julia and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She let him and called for John.

“We’re leaving. I’ve made you some dinner that you can heat up in the oven.” She said when John walked through the doorway. He looked like a mess, since he hadn’t bothered to put much effort in looking presentable because he wasn’t going out that evening. Still, Paul couldn’t deny he looked good. His hair was ruffled, his jeans old and faded and ripped, his shirt hanging loosely around his torso, exposing the upper bit of his chest a bit too much. He went bare footed.

“Sure, thanks mum. Don’t worry about us. We’ll stay alive.” He said, sounding rather bored. Paul managed to drag his eyes away from John’s form and kissed Julia’s cheek, earning himself some disgusted grunts from both kids, before he offered her her coat and bag. They said their goodbyes before they went out of the door and into the chilly air of the evening.

            John didn’t do much all evening. He made sure to heat up dinner when Jules started to complain about being hungry, but apart from that he didn’t do much more than strum some songs on his guitar or listening to music or reading a book as his sister watched some telly. It had been a while since he had last stayed home on a Saturday night and he was relieved when Stuart called.

“Jules! Shut the door. I’m talking to Stu!” He shouted at his sister from the hallway, knowing that whatever they were going to talk about, he didn’t want his little sister to hear. He only continued the conversation with Stuart once he heard the door to the living room fall shut with a loud thud.

“Thanks!” He shouted back as he put the horn back against his ear.

“What are you up to, Lennon? Cynthia misses you, you know.” Stuart shouted into his ear from the other side, making John whince. It sounded like he was some place busy. He could hear music playing and  people chatting in the background.

“Nothing. That’s the trouble. Got suspended and now I have to babysit my little sister and stay out of trouble or I’ll get grounded. I can’t get grounded, Stu. Not with the gig next weekend.”

“Pity. I got the note, by the way. What did you do this time, then? Come on, confess and beg for forgiveness.”

“Had a wet dream in class about my mum’s boyfriend.” John deadpanned. Leaning against the wall, he waited patiently for his friend to reply, as he inspected his nails. He should cut the again.

“Y-you… what?!” Stuart exclaimed for the phone, sounding somewhere between confused, disgusted and utterly shocked. John couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Dreamed about McQueer giving me head. Pretty good he was too.” John repeated a little louder, smirking into the phone. He kept a close eye on the door to the living room, not wanting to get caught having this conversation.

“What do you mean you had a wet dream about him?! You hate him!” Stuart asked, his voice high pitched.

“Well, I’d say it’s something of a love-hate relationship now. Are you having a party or something?” John asked, frowning when he heard some yelling and cheering from Stuart’s side of the line.

“Y-yeah. Small get together. Everyone is pretty drunk. So you literally imagined your step dad going down on you? That’s fucked-up, Lennon. Even for you!”

“It’s not like I wanted to! Besides, the teacher thought I was having a wank, so I felt rather embarrassed. Not like you really seem to care, anyway. Anyway, can you believe I dreamed about that queer?”

“Seems like you’re the queer one here, John. And yes, actually. He’s pretty cute. Charming, too.”

“Yeah, thanks. Hadn’t noticed yet.” John replied sarcastically, playing with the cord of the phone with his fingers.

“Does he know?”

“What no! What kind of person do you think I am! I’m not stupid, Stu.”

“But you do want him?” Stuart asked, his voice a lot quiet now. John swallowed at the question. He knew the answer was yes. It was pretty clear the answer was yes. Still, it was fucked-up right? You couldn’t get much closer to insect without actually fucking a family member, than this, could you? Still, just the thought of his dream and Paul and him together got his cock to stand proud in his underwear. At least, Lil’ Johnny didn’t seem to mind.

“I-I… Yes. Fuck yes.” John admitted, stumbling over his words and letting out a relieved sigh when the words had finally left his mouth.

“John, please don’t do anything stupid. He’s still your mum’s boyfriend.”

“I just told you I’m not stupid! Don’t worry. I’m sure it will pass.”

“I hope so for your sake. I suppose when Cyn told you to give the man a chance, this wasn’t really what she had in mind, was it?” Stuart said with a chuckle and John laughed with him.

“Most definitely not, no. God, Stu, I’m fucked, man. I can’t even keep my eyes off the man.”

“John, I’m sure you’ll be fine. In a few days someone else will have caught your eyes and you’d forgotten all about Paul, okay? I could even set you up with someone if you need.”

“Thanks stu.” John answered with a sigh, rubbing his forehead, “I do hope so. I mean, the guy is twenty-five years older than me. The guy was busy fucking college girls when my mum pushed me out of her.”

“Now, there’s a kink for you.” Stuart joked, and John faked a laugh. “So you won’t come tonight?”

“Nah, better not risk it. I’m sure Paul has managed to buy Jules out to snitch on my if I leave the house.”

“Sounds like something you would do.”

“Yeah, well, apparently we have more in common than we first thought.”

“Alright. I’ll see you around, Lennon. And really, don’t do anything stupid. Even if you would manage seduce the other man and get him out of his knickers, it will only end badly, I can promise you that.”

“Thanks for the head’s up, Mr Positive.” John snickered into the phone, when the door to the living room opened and he saw his sister peek around the corner, only to pull away again as quickly as possible when she saw him looking at her direction.

“Always, Lennon. You know that.” Stuart said, before hanging up the phone. 


	7. Chapter 7

John lay in his bed, staring at nothing in particular as he listened to his mother and Paul stumbling around downstairs. It was half past twelve and they had only just gotten home. Probably to make sure that he and his sister were asleep, judging by the sounds they were making. God, he hoped his sister was fast asleep - unlike him - and that she didn’t have to listen to those noises - unlike him. He sighed and rolled over onto his side so he was facing the white wall and started to draw figures on it with his finger tip.

He felt odd listening to the noises. He felt disgusted as he should, but also curious and aroused, his cock giving a twitch in his pants whenever he heard Paul’s voice. At least, when he wasn’t saying his mother’s name, which mostly ruined both the mood as well as John’s smutty daydreams. He couldn’t help himself, though. No matter how much he tried to push those thoughts away and not think about Paul like that, those thoughts kept coming back to him. He hoped Stuart was right and that he would eventually meet someone who’d take his mind of that stupid old man. With his stupid arse. That John wanted to squeeze and nibble at. And bury his face in and lick- No! John took in a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly, trying to push the thought away. He couldn’t think like that. It was wrong and it didn’t help anyone. Fuck his life. Or fuck Paul. No! Not Paul. Definitely not Paul.

“Come on, Julia. Kids are asleep. I need you, darling.” John heard Paul moan from just outside his bedroom door, his voice sounding breathless and low and already fucking wracked. Fuck, if only he’d say those words to him. If only…

“Shit. I’d do you right here if I could. Right against the wall. Need you so bad.” Paul continued and John could hear his mother’s voice uttering something, but it sounded muffled, so he couldn’t hear what she was saying exactly. He took in a few deep breaths and closed his eyes as he tried to block Paul’s voice from his head. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to wait much longer and soon Paul and his mother moved their get together into their own bedroom. When he heard the door fall shut, John sighed in relief. Still, his cock was pressing persistently against the fabric of his pajama bottoms. He groaned and rolled over onto his belly, deciding it would be too weird if he wanked off to Paul trying to get his mother to sleep with him.

            Paul collapsed onto the bed next to Julia, one of his legs thrown across Julia’s for touch. He smiled and hummed contently as Julia rolled onto her side and curled her naked body up against his equally naked one, burying her nose in the crook of his neck. He let out a sigh and turned his head to her, kissing her sweetly on the top of her head.

“That was nice.” She muttered as she started to kiss his neck, her hands moving to rub over Paul’s chest, playing with the dark hairs she found there.

“Oh yes. I should take you out more often.” Paul replied with a chuckle, moving his fingers into her red hair to play with as he enjoyed the attention she was giving him. She chuckled in response, licking a gentle strip from Paul’s neck to his ear.

“Want to go again?” She asked, lifting herself up a bit more to straddle him. Paul let her, but laughed and shook his head.

“I need at least twenty minutes before I can get it up again, luv. No matter how beautiful and sexy you are. I’m not twenty anymore.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward.” She responded, leaning down to kiss him on the lips again as she rolled her hips, letting Paul’s soft cock slide beneath her between her legs, wetting it with her juices. Paul growled at both the pleasure as well as the discomfort it gave him, still being too sensitive after having just come.

“You’re unsatisfiable, aren’t you?” Paul asked with an affectionate smirk, grabbing her by her hips and stopping her tortuous movements, before it became too much. She whined at the loss of friction, but nodded to let him know she understood.

“Fine. I have to use the bathroom anyway.” She muttered as she rolled off him and kissed him one last time, before getting out of bed and grabbing a robe to pull on. Paul watched her as she left for the bathroom, smiling contently to himself.

            It had been incredible to finally have had some time for themselves again. No kids, no worries, no hiding, no anything. Just simply enjoying themselves and each other and taking their time doing so. Of course they had talked about the kids. Julia hadn’t been able wrap her head around the fact that John wasn’t being a complete dick to him anymore and had actually asked Paul to teach him to tune his guitar. And even now she still wouldn’t believe it until she’d see it with her own eyes. But when they hadn’t been talking about John or Jules, they had talked about themselves, shared jokes again and told stories about work and their life before. They had had great fun. And afterwards they had went to see a movie and made a midnight walk in silence, until they had kissed beneath the moonlight and decided to go home. It had been a great evening and Paul knew he simply had to do this once again in a few weeks.

He wiped some sweat from his forehead and decided to get himself something to drink. His throat was dry and simply waiting here until his dick would be ready for round two wasn’t fun either. He slid out of bed, pulled on the remaining robe and checked himself out in the mirror, fixing his hair and winking at himself, before walking out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. He drank two glasses in quick succession, before cleaning the glass and going back upstairs, feeling a lot less tired already.

When he walked past Jules room, he had a quick peek inside, making sure everything was okay. When he saw she was fast asleep, he tiptoed into the room to give her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Sleep tight, princess.” He whispered to her, before patting her lightly over her head, stroking her hair. He smiled down at her, feeling happy he finally had kids to look after now. He had always wanted kids and after his last break-up with his fiance, he hadn’t thought he’d ever have them with anyone. Apparently he had been wrong and he couldn’t be more grateful. Jules was a great child and he loved her dearly. He hoped that one day they would be like a real family, with him and Julia married, John a girlfriend, or secret boyfriend (which was a little more likely), and everyone happy as they’d spend time together with christmas and new years. He leaned down to kiss her once more, before tiptoeing back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

            John’s door was the door he passed next. He swallowed thickly as he stared that the door handle, remembering the small moment in the kitchen where Paul had wanted to ruffle John’s hair and kiss his forehead. When he had felt _that_. Whatever _that_ was. He felt it again as he carefully opened John’s door. His throat was dry and tight, making it difficult to breath and his whole body was tense, not knowing what to expect if John caught him in here, checking on him as if he were a little kid.

He let out a deep breath when he saw John lying on the bed. It was completely dark in the room and all Paul could see was the outline of John’s body underneath the blankets. He could hear some slight ruffling, but he didn’t think anything off it. Slowly he entered the room and closed the door behind him. John’s room was messier than the last time he had been there. All different kinds of clothes were scattered across the floor and papers filled the spaces where there were no clothing, making it almost impossible to see any of the wood flooring. His guitar was lying on the floor next to his bed and his schoolbooks were thrown in a dark corner of the room. Paul grinned when he noticed a towel on the floor underneath John’s bed, knowing fully well what that was for from his own youth. God, he missed those days.

Then he suddenly heard something that sounded like a strangled groan. He froze on the spot. He couldn’t move a muscle and listened closely as he held his breath, not wanting John to see him. He’d probably scare the lad half to death. Another moan came from the bed. It sounded strained and almost pleading. As quietly as he could, Paul turned his head to look into the direction of the bed, taking in a sharp breath as his eyes focused on the sight of John on the bed, feet planted up high on the bed, legs spread and knees bent underneath the covers that rustled with every little move John made. His cheeks burned as he watched John masturebate, his head turned to the wall and his eyes probably tightly shut.

Paul couldn’t move as he watched quietly, being unable to look away. He could’ve known this had been bound to happen one day, with John being a seventeen-year-old lad, but it still came as a shock and he hadn’t expected it to happen like this, with him directly in the room watching him like some dirty old perv. Which he was. Why wouldn’t he just leave? Why couldn’t he look away? Not that he could see much. John had the covers pulled up over himself, blocking Paul’s view, for which Paul wasn’t sure he was relieved or disappointed. Still he could clearly see the way John’s hand moved, up and down, beneath the covers as he stroked himself, moaning quietly and breathing heavily into his fist, on which he was biting down.

As Paul’s eyes began to grow accustomed to the light, he saw things a little more clearly. He could see the red flush on John’s cheeks, the light shimmer of sweat on his face and upper body, his pink nipples coming out from just above the sheets. Paul had to bite his tongue not to curse or moan at the sight. He looked so beautiful and handsome like that, body trembling and completely submerged into his own pleasure as he sought for release, his face tight with concentration as he probably imagined a very hot and lewd fantasy in his head, that would most-likely make John’s erection throb in his hand. When Paul’s own cock started to react in kind, he found the control over his body again and hurried out of the room as quietly as could as to not alarm John of his presence, but without wasting another second. He let out a deep breath when he stood outside in the hallway again and managed to shut the door to John’s door close again.

“Fuck…” He breathed to himself, closing his eyes firmly as he tried his hardest to make himself forget what he had just seen. But he couldn’t. The memory of John trembling on his bed as he jerked himself off was still too vivid and fresh, making it almost impossible for Paul not to think about it. Why couldn’t he have simply knocked? He should have known better. He really should have. And now he was sporting another hard-on, created by the sight of his (almost) stepson masturbating. God, he had stood there, right in the middle of the room, where John could’ve easily spotted him had he turned his head his way, watching him like a dirty old man would and had gotten hard on it, too. He cursed to himself and scolded himself for not having left right away. Fuck, if he wasn’t going to hell for this, than Paul didn’t know what for.

            Julia lay already in bed, sleeping peacefully with her head resting on her hand and her robe ridden up over her thighs, exposing her partially naked body, when Paul came back inside. His hard-on was still there and was refusing to go away unless Paul would take care of it. Which he wasn’t going to do of course. He wouldn’t wank off to the sight of John having a solo session. He couldn’t do that. That was just wrong. This had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to walk in on John having a wank and watching him do it. He had already been inside, having thought the lad had been asleep, rather than having a wank, and when he had realised it, it had already been too late and he had been too far in shock to control his body and leave. It hadn’t really been his fault. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but if he’d took care of his own cock, that would be crossing the line.

So Paul swallowed thickly and tried to will his erection to go away as he crawled into bed besides Julia. He closed his eyes and tried to think of all kinds of innocent things that had nothing to do with John or sex, until he would finally drift off to sleep. He’d just ignore it. He was forty-two now.  He wasn’t being controlled by his cock anymore, so he should be able to do this. Right? All through the night, Paul had a troubled sleep, waking up occasionally and dreaming heavily. At the end he lay awake from six to eight, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the sun and a time when he could get up.

            John woke up in a pretty good mood. He felt at ease and relaxed and overall strangely happy and satisfied. Even when he stepped out of bed and onto the cum-stained towel which he had thrown onto the floor after his wanking session, he remained in oddly high spirits and simply picked up the towel and went to the bathroom to clean it, all the while whistling a cheerful tune. After that, he took a quick shower, washed his hair and brushed his teeth and got dressed, putting on a simple shirt and jeans. He lit himself a ciggy and put on the B-side of a Buddy Holly single and listened to the song ‘You Are My One Desire, as he stared out of the window, smoked and hummed along. This is what John most liked to do; roll out of bed, take a nice, fresh shower and listen to some good music as he smoked his first ciggy of the day, before he had to deal with his family downstairs for breakfast.

When he did finally go downstairs, everyone was already awake and doing their thing. Jules was reading a book as his mother took on the task of cleaning the house, starting of course with the kitchen like she usually did. Paul skimmed through the sunday paper as he drank coffee and occasionally went to help Julia whenever she needed his help. Mostly, he stayed out of her way, knowing better than to try and help. Julia always claimed he’d only be in the way and she’d get annoyed, which Paul respected, even though he’d often remind her that he wouldn’t mind to help.

John whistled You Are My One Desire as he grabbed himself some cereal and a cup of tea, which his mother told him was still hot. He sat down opposite Paul and smiled when he caught the man’s eye.

“Morning.” He greeted, taking part of the paper that Paul had pushed aside, away from him to read himself. Julia froze on her spot, her hand hanging mid-air, where she’d wanted to dust off the top of the cabinets. Paul stared at him, too, his cheeks flushing slightly as neither broke eye contact. His eyes were a little red and had dark circles under them, making John believe he hadn’t slept well. His sister simply went on reading, blocking out what went on around her.

“What?” John asked, finally tearing his eyes away and looking to his mother and back at Paul again as took his cup of tea to take a sip. “Something wrong?”

“No. No, nothing.” Julia said, trying very obviously not to sound too excited or surprised with the casual and polite way John was now talking to the older man, her voice high as she spoke fastly. John winked at Paul at her reaction, hoping Paul would do the same as if they had some kind of special bond, but instead, Paul only blushed heavier and quickly looked down at his paper, not meeting John’s eye. John frowned at that, not understanding why the other man was acting so odd. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the way Paul’s long eyelashes rested on his cheeks as the older man closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” John asked, putting his tea back down and leaning in a little bit closer. He didn’t miss how his mother almost giggled with glee at his concern for her boyfriend. John ignored her and studied Paul curiously.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” The older man said as he cleared his throat, cocking his head up a little to come across as more confident as he continued to stare at the paper. John could easily see he wasn’t really reading it, but only pretending to, since his eyes were roaming over the page.

“Okay… If you say so.” John muttered, looking away from Paul and focused on his food. He didn’t miss how Paul seemed to let out a relieved sigh at that, his body relaxing again. Curious to know what was going on inside the other man’s head, John dropped all his good intentions of not spending much time with Paul and staying away from him as much as possible until his crush had ceased, and decided today he’d focus on the task of figuring out why Paul was acting so oddly. It wasn’t like him to act like this. It was weird and it made John uncomfortable and worried, although he’d never admit to that last.

            To no one’s surprise Paul spend most of morning on his own in the kitchen grading essays for his last-year students. It was a rainy day and mother and daughter played a couple of card games in the living room as they listened quietly to some records, as to not to disturb Paul as he worked. They had asked John to join too, and he would’ve had he not another mission to attend to. He told them he would be upstairs. Neither his mother, sister, nor Paul asked him what he’d be doing there. Paul only pretended not to look at him as he simply nodded, but John could see him looking at him from underneath his eyelashes, that truly were ridiculously long. He grabbed himself a bottle of coke, before leaving the kitchen without another word, feeling the way Paul was still staring at him. He couldn’t help but grin to know that _he_ was most likely the reason for Paul’s odd behaviour, which made him far prouder than he’d like to admit.

He went upstairs first, making sure to make his footsteps loud enough for everyone to hear he was, and he went into his room for about fifteen minutes, doodling mindlessly as he drank his water and paid extra attention to the clock. After about five minutes, John had lost himself however the his doodling and was making a nice little drawing for his latest story about a dog. When he looked at the clock again, and noticed fifteen minutes had finally past, he pushed the drawing aside and tiptoed silently down the stairs.

The door to both the living room and kitchen were closed, probably to muffle the sounds his mother and sister were making and they chatted and laughed and sang along to the music as they played their card game, or whatever it was they were playing now. John kept a close eye on the kitchen door and kept his body turned to stairs, so he could quickly flee if Paul would open the kitchen door. It was crucial he wouldn’t be caught, or else he’d never figure out what was going on in Paul’s head.

Pressing his ear to the door, he listened closely for any indications of Paul doing something other than doing his work. When he only heard some scribbling on paper and the soft muttering of Paul’s voice, he carefully pushed the door handle down and opened the door slightly, just enough for him to look into the kitchen and see Paul. The sounds had become a lot clearer and he could now understand what the man was saying. Paul sat at the kitchen table, his back to the door (John quickly thanked God for stupid coincidences)  and was hurdled over a stack of papers. Two even larger stack of papers sat either side of him, the one considerable larger than other other. John figured the smaller stack of the two were the essays Paul had already gone over.

The older man didn’t say much as he stared at the papers, his head in his hands. He was obviously having trouble concentrating as he spend ages reading just one page. When Paul finished reading three more pages, he groaned and pushed the papers away from him, before leaning back and rubbing his hands over his face, before running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. John bit his lip, wanting to know what Paul’s hair would feel like against his skin. It looked so soft.

“Come on, McCartney.” Paul groaned as he closed his eyes and cocked his head back, “It was just a stupid accident. Could have happened to anyone. Now stop acting like a teenager and get back to work. These kids have been waiting long enough for their grades, understood.” Paul told himself sternly, as if he was lecturing himself. The older man took a deep breath, took his pen in his hand again and reached for the papers. He tried again, but after not even a minute, he groaned again and let his head fall onto the papers. John frowned. Something must really be troubling him. He gasped and had to put his fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any noise when he saw Paul’s hand drop from the table and onto his crotch. He blushed heavily and felt his head spin when he saw Paul pressing down and moaning as he laid his head on his arm to bite down on his arm. When Paul started to move his hand, with which he was still pressing down onto his crotch, John felt himself getting hard. Paul was rubbing himself through his trousers and moaning into his arm to keep quiet. The sight was… arousing. Odd and strange, but so arousing and John felt the urge to do the same to his own prick. Then suddenly, Paul stopped again, jerking his body upright and forcing his hands flat on the table. John saw him taking a couple of deep breaths as if to calm himself.

“No!” Paul told himself softly, but again sternly, making John’s cock twitch, “You musn’t do this. You _can’t_ do this, for Christ’s sake. You can not-” He cut himself off and took another deep breath, “It’s wrong. It’s illegal even. It was a mistake, but you can’t allow yourself to do this. You must be stronger than this. You love Julia, right? Then why the hell would you think about her son. It’s wrong. Now stop thinking about what you saw and get to work, damn it. These essays won’t grade themselves.” Paul nodded resolutely to himself and picking the pen back up. He took a few deep breaths before bending over his work again, muttering curses and comments about the quality of the papers every so often, his hands still firmly planted on the table.

            John was shocked. Of course he was. Had he just heard that correctly or was his imagination working overtime? Paul… was thinking about him? In that way? He couldn’t, could he? Why would he even. John knew he was a jerk and Paul really did not seem like the type to find that attractive. But he had said so. And what had he _seen_? John’s face went white when realisation dawned on him. Had Paul caught him having a wank yesterday? Was that it? Was that why he had been acting all flustered and shy-like or embarrassed when he was around him? He must have! It was the only logical explanation.

John took a step back from the kitchen door and slowly closed it, deciding he had heard enough. He could hardly believe he hadn’t heard him then, last night. He had tried to be careful enough. He had kept the covers over himself and had listened closely for any sounds near his door or in his room that would indicate him being about to get caught. Apparently not hard enough, though. Oh, god. Had he been moaning to himself? He sometimes would, he knew. He hoped not, considering he had imagined Paul fucking him against the wall, like he had heard him say before. He took a few deep breaths and then figured he must have kept quiet, since Paul was mostly worried about his own arousal, than the fact that John wanked off to the thought of him. He quickly rushed back upstairs as quietly as he could and locked himself in his room by placing his desk chair under the door handle. He needed to think.

            John spend a good hour thinking everything through, until he came to the conclusion this might not have understood Paul correctly. Why would Paul be aroused by him jerking off. Of course there was only one way to find out the truth. He should push Paul, try to see what would happen if he caught John having a wank again. Besides, there was no way he could lose. If Paul were attracted to him, he might get a chance to find out what it was like kissing him, even if it was just a one time thing, and if not, it would be hilarious to see the expression on the older man’s face. John liked a good practical joke.

Looking at the clock, he saw it was only half past ten. Enough time to see how far he could push the older man and find out the truth. He went to the bathroom at the other side of the house as he realised it had stopped raining. He knew his mother would still want to do some gardening and it would be perfect to not have her in the house. He smiled when he saw Jules and his mother in the garden, working and playing in the leaves that had fallen down and were now covering the grass. Knowing he had to lure Paul upstairs, he went down and pushed the door slightly open. When he looked back inside, he was happy to find Paul still buried in all the papers. He quickly hurried back to his bedroom and let the door slightly open as he laid down on his bed. He pulled his trousers down and could feel his hard pump rapidly in his chest. His fingers were shaking when he unbuttoned his trousers to make the pulling it down a little easier. He left his underwear on and slowly began to stroke himself through the rough material of his underwear, making sure to let out all the little moans and groans he would normally hold back, wanting to get caught this time.

            Paul frowned when he suddenly heard some odd noises coming from upstairs. He knew it had to be John, considering the women were in the garden taking care of the plants and playing in the leaves now it had stopped raining. He had promised them to join them when he was done, but he didn’t see that happening any time soon. When he heard the odd sound again, Paul decided to check on him, just to be sure he was okay.

He carefully walked up the stairs, remembering what he saw the last time he had decided to check on John. He sighed when he noticed John’s door was slightly ajar, knowing no teenage boy would leave his door opened if he was doing… you know… that. But still, the noises had become a lot clearer and it sounded strangely similar to the sounds John had made last night. Even his cock remembered. Ignoring it, he carefully approached the door to John’s room. When he was standing right there he knew for certain that John was masturbating again. The sounds mere unmistakable. But he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching for the door and pushing it a little more open so he could peek inside. He couldn’t help himself. His body felt hot and he couldn’t control his body, not matter much much his mind screamed at him to simply turn around and leave. No matter how much it screamed that it was wrong and nasty and illegal and just wrong he still peeked inside, gasping when he saw John’s hand wrapped around his cock through his underwear, stroking himself as he moaned so prettily, his cheeks flushed and his head a mess as his whole body twisted against the sheets. Paul was hard almost immediately and even his head had stopped screaming at him. All he could do was watch as John pleasured himself, his bare thighs trembling as his orgasm grew close and closer. And that’s when he heard it. The young boy lifted his hand to suckle on his fingers as he moaned softly, sounding desperate and far away.

“P-Pa- oh yes, Paul.” He moaned quickly as he bit down his fingers, his hand speeding up. Paul gasped as he heard his name roll of John’s lips and he blushed heavily as his whole body turned cold. John was… thinking of _him_. God, Paul cock was throbbing in his pants and all he wanted was to walk inside and take over from John, make him come as he cried out his name again.

However, when John moaned his name again, louder this time, Paul’s mind seemed to have caught up and his eyes grew wide with shock. His mind was screaming at him again, telling him how bad he was and that he shouldn’t give in. That this was wrong and that he should just leave right now and never mention it or think about it ever again. This time Paul’s body was more than happy to oblige and he turned around and pulled the door shut with a loud thud that he was certain John would have heard.

He hurried to the bathroom as quickly as he could, and stepped inside and stopped before the sink. Quickly he splashed some water on his face as the image of John wanking and moaning his name continued to flash before his eyes. He could still hear him even. He splashed some more water on his face and tried to calm down his breathing when he realised he was on the brink of hyperventilating. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. What had Paul ever done to deserve this? Why was this happening to him? Why couldn’t he just date a beautiful woman like Julia and not have to deal with a gorgeous son who was on his way to killing him. Why did John have to be so beautiful and handsome and oh so attractive? More importantly, why was the lad only seventeen? How could he fall for a seventeen-year-old? He hadn’t slept with or felt this attracted to anyone that age since he was twenty-six. And even then it had felt wrong and sinful.

Never in all the years he had been teaching had he ever felt something for someone that much younger than him. No matter how beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, or attractive he or she was. No matter how much they’d flirt with him or try to get under his skin, he never wanted to do something like that with a student ever. But John wasn’t his student, of course. John was… a very different story. Something almost a lot more wrong. He was his girlfriend’s son. It sounded like a bad porno movie.

            Paul stared at himself through the mirror above the sink. His eyes were wide and his pupils dilated. A faint blush was still pained over his cheeks and he was panting heavily. He felt hot and dizzy and cold. He wasn’t sure what to do now. How could he deal with this. He didn’t want to screw things up with Julia, but he couldn’t continue to lust over an innocent seventeen-year-old. Over a guy. He had thought those days had been past him. How wrong he had been. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths as he continued to curse at himself and tell himself how screwed up he was.

When he opened his eyes again, he splashed some more water on his face and reached for a towel. He dried himself off and tried to dry his bangs the best he could. When he looked back up into the mirror he nearly had a heart-attack when he noticed said seventeen-year-old standing behind. He was leaning against the wall, looking smug as ever with a smirk on his face.

“Jesus, John!” Paul breathed heavily, closing his eyes and letting his head  drop between his shoulders as he leaned onto the sink with both hands. “Knock next time, would you?” He asked.

“I could ask you the same thing, you know.” John said, sounding as smug as he looked. Paul froze in his spot and he stared wide-eyed at the still running water from the tap. John had caught him. He had seen him watching him and now he knew. What was he going to do now? What if he’d tell Julia? She’d throw him out for sure. Without even as much as asking if it were true. When he heard John walk behind him, he quickly closed the tap, but kept his gaze lowered. His heart was pounding in his chest and blood rushing through his ears, making it difficult for him to think clearly.

“I saw you watching me, Paul. And I know you were watching me last night, too.” The boy spoke, his voice low and scaringly calm. When the lad put his hand besides Paul’s on the sink, Paul felt his knees grow weak with fear. He could go to jail! Couldn’t he? John could tell him he was a sexual predator and a homosexual. He could spend the rest of his life in jail. His entire body shook at the thought.

“H-how…?” Paul asked, his voice tiny and shaking as badly as his body.

“I heard you in the kitchen. I thought I’d see for myself. You’re a dirty old man, aren’t you? And I thought you weren’t queer. Does mum know?” John asked softly, his mouth so close to Paul’s ear he could feel John’s hot breath ghost over it. He wouldn’t admit that even in this situation his cock twitched as if he were seventeen himself.

“I-I didn’t mean to. I promise. I heard noise and I thought something was wrong. I’m not… I’m not queer.”

“Still, you stuck around long enough to enjoy the show, didn’t you?” John teased, his mouth still dangerously close to his ear. Paul shuddered and bit down his lip hard. He tried to find a way out of this, but his mind couldn’t think of anything.

“It’s okay, though.” John continued, making Paul open his eyes in shock and lift his head to meet John’s eyes through the mirror. He frowned when he saw John raking his eyes over his body, taking in every part of him as if he were… “I won’t tell. Besides you aren’t the first to sneak a little look at Lil’ Johnny. And you’re far more handsome than the other man.” John continued, cutting of Paul’s train of thought and starting a new one.

“Excuse me?” Paul asked as he turned on his heels so he was facing the younger man. John’s eyes widened at that and for a moment he seemed at lost for words. Then Paul remembered in a brief moment of clarity that John had moaned out his name. His lips curled up in a devious smile at that.

“I- I…” John started, stumbling over his words, it being a lot more difficult for him to say those things right into Paul’s face, “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I wanted you.” He breathed out deeply and blushed heavily as John continued to stare at Paul, swallowing deeply as Paul’s eyes widened at the confessions.

            Everything seemed to speed up in the moment. Paul and John stared at each other, both realising now that it was now or never and that in a way, they could. This was their change and if they didn’t take it now, they would never get another. This was their choice. John seemed confused and scared, but willing. He wasn’t sure what to do and he wiggled on his feet where he was standing, right there. Their bodies were so close, so near and they were practically breathing the same air already.

Luckily, for John he didn’t have to make the choice, as Paul did it for him, knowing he wouldn’t forgive himself if he let this pass him by. He took a deep breath and took another step closer to the other man, licking his lips as he saw the boy take in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter with nervousness and longing. Deciding this was what he wanted, Paul moved quickly, grabbing the younger man’s head with both hands, tangling his fingers tightly into his soft hair and forcing him backwards and against the door once more, before he made their lips meet and kissed John vigorously, holding nothing back, knowing this might be as much as he would ever get of the other boy.

            John gasped at the feeling of Paul’s lips against his and his eyes fluttered close, as he felt Paul’s eyelashes brushing against the top of his cheeks. His lips were as soft and firm as in his dreams, but they were rough and dry, their lips getting stuck on each other as they moved over each other, making the kiss rough and pleasurably painful.

He growled wantonly against Paul’s mouth, not believing this was happening to him and his cock twitched when he heard Paul reply with a moan of his own. His hand moved to grab Paul tightly by his shirt, pulling him closer and twisting his hands into the material as if he never wanted to let go again. His whole body was tense and when he felt Paul’s tongue against his, he had trouble parting his lips for him, afraid to break the kiss if he did.

When their tongues did finally meet, his heart fluttered and he kissed Paul eagerly, letting his tongue glide over Paul’s, tasting him and making himself familiar with the new surroundings. He tasted amazing though and John sighed into Paul’s mouth, his hands growing slack as his body slowly melted into Paul’s.

Paul moved his lips away from his lips to kiss his nose, cheeks and eyes, and place kisses all over his face as John panted out his name. He never wanted this to stop and by the eager little noises the older man was making, he didn’t want to either, weeks of sexual frustration finally finding an outlet.

* * *

 

Paul couldn’t help but smile when he heard his name fall from John’s lips again, coming out as something close to a whimper. He moved his kisses lower to nip at the younger man’s chin, as he angled the boy’s face up with his hand that he closed high around his neck. Another whimper left John’s mouth and his fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer and higher up, needing another kiss, which Paul gave him gladly. He brushed his lips teasingly against John’s, enjoying the noises he managed the pull out of the younger boy, causing him to part his lips. Paul shuddered as he breathed in John’s air, smelling the scent of cigarette smoke and peppermint from his toothpaste. A wave of want crashed over him, and without wasting another second, Paul kissed John again, licking into his mouth and curling his tongue around John’s, who moaned into his mouth and returned the kiss with just as much passion and want.

When John started to suckle on Paul’s tongue in his mouth, Paul felt his cock throb in his jeans, wanting so much more of that. He gasped as he thrusted his hips into John’s, meeting his equally hard bulge, which let him know he was having the same effect on John as John had on him. The kiss could’ve have gone on forever and Paul wouldn’t have wanted nothing more, but reality crawled its way back into his brain with the shouts of a woman coming from downstairs, echoing through the door to which he had John still firmly pressed against.

“Paul? Are you upstairs, luv?” The woman shouted upstairs, making Paul break the kiss against his will. He kept his eyes closed as he tried to calm his body down. He was shaking and trembling from the adrenaline that was rushing through his body and the heat that had crept into his blood. He let his forehead rest against John’s, holding him firmly against the door as they shared the same air and caught their breaths.

“Paul? Paul, answer me. Are you okay?” The voice came again, sounding a lot more worried now and Paul knew he had to answer. Especially when his mind finally realised that the woman shouting up at him was his girlfriend and in fact the mother of the boy whom he had been kissing on a few second ago and whose erection was pressing against his still. He cursed inwardly. He took a few deep breaths and forced his body to calm down as he called back.

“Yeah! I’m here!” He shouted back, his voice sounding breathy, but not as wrecked as it easily could have been. When he felt John’s body moving against his, he opened his eyes again, meeting John’s. The boy was watching him with huge, almond shaped eyes and his mouth was slightly parted as he caught his breath. He was staring at him with a mixture of confusement, shock, want and adoration.

“Oh good. I thought something had happened. Can you help me and Jules out in the garden for a few minutes? I’m afraid we’ve got a little bit of a problem.” The woman called up again and John could hear her footsteps on the stairs, only going half-way up. Paul nodded, his eyes still on John’s.

‘I’ll be right there!” He shouted back, his voice surprisingly clear and normal-sounding. He could see John blink at him a few times at that, before Paul pulled away, his hands sliding off the younger man’s body as he took a step back. John let out a shaky breath and his body seemed to relax as he got his personal space back. Paul placed his hand on the doorknob near John’s elbow and pulled it  carefully open, giving John the time to move with it, which he did. He didn’t say anything more as he pushed past John and out of the door, cursing at himself for how shaky his knees were.

            John didn’t say anything as Paul pushed past him, but held his gaze. He searched for any signs that might tell him what he was thinking about what had just happened, but his face was blank. He watched him leave and when he felt the door fall shut behind him, he sank down his knees and onto the floor. He simply sat there for a while, staring at the tiled floor with his legs stretched out before him.

He still had difficulty believing what had just happened. It had all gone so fast. One minute Paul had been panicking in front of him and looking white as a sheet as he stared at him with wide eyes, knowing fully well he could get into some big trouble if John wanted and played his cards right. And the moment after Paul had been pressing him against the door and had been kissing him.

John giggled at the thought and mindlessly raised his hand to touch his lips where only seconds ago Paul’s lips had been. God, that kiss had been even better than John could ever have imagined. And he wanted more. He found himself already addicted to the taste of the other man. He tasted of coffee, cinnamon and expensive cigarettes, and John couldn’t wait to taste that again.

            Paul’s heart was thumping rapidly in his chest as he walked down the stairs, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn’t let Julia notice something had happened. She wouldn’t stop until she knew and Paul really didn’t want her to know what just happened in the bathroom. He could still taste John on his tongue, making it even more difficult to control himself..

As he stepped outside into the garden, Paul’s nerves had calmed down a little and his breathing and skin colour had returned to normal. Julia greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.

“There you are! I got worried when I didn’t find you sulking about your student’s essays in the kitchen just now.” He said and Paul laughed, even surprising himself by how casual he sounded.

“They aren’t that bad.” He replied and Julia grinned knowingly at him.

“Oh yes, they are. And you know it, too. It wouldn’t be English class otherwise.”

“I suppose you’re right. Anyway, what do you want me to do for you?”  He asked, deciding it would be better to get to work before she’d ask him what he was doing upstairs. His mind was still too numb from the kiss to come up with a good lie.

            As it happened Julia only wanted him to help them out a little so they’d be done before it would start to rain again, as she had heard on the radio that it would do so again soon. It was nice to help around the garden for a while. It gave him some peace and quiet and it helped him take his mind off John. He was raking leaves that had began to fall down and everytime he had managed to get a little pile, Jules would kick it or jump into it and he’d have to start over again. Still, he didn’t mind and when Julia told her to stop that and leave him to do his work, he laughed and told her it was okay, winking at the little girl who smiled broadly before jumping into Paul’s new pile again, sending the pretty coloured leaves flying. About fifteen minutes later, Jules had found a squirrel that had jumped into a tree and was watching closely to see it again, giving Paul enough time to finish up his chore. Once he had gathered all the leaves, Julia came over to kiss his cheek as she told him she’d be starting on lunch. Paul nodded and asked if he could do anything else, but Julia shook his head.

“Take a break. You look like your brain is already overworked for the day.” She told him, and Paul nodded with a half-hearted smile, knowing it wasn’t because he had worked so much, but because of her teenage son who continued to mess with his head. He pecked her on the lips and watched her go as he sat himself down on one of the lounge chairs on the little grass area at the front of the garden, where he could watch Jules as she continued to hunt down her prey.  

He watched her quietly as the clouds around him started to grow dark again, indicating that Julia had indeed been right and it would soon start to rain again. For now, Paul decided to simply sit in the garden for as long as the weather allowed him too and enjoy the fresh wind that caressed his skin. He popped open the buttons of his coat and sat back and closed his eyes. He tried to think of nothing for awhile, savouring the calm and quiet that surrounded him and the sounds of the birds chirping.

            It was difficult to enjoy it fully, though. He felt weird, restless and nervous and he couldn’t calm himself now that he had nothing to keep his mind off it. He watched Jules for awhile, but she only seemed to make his feelings worse. This could be the end. He and John… If anyone ever found out what had happened they’d be done for. He himself even more so than John, since he was the adult. They would hold him responsible. And he was. He had kissed John. He should never have done that.

He didn’t want to lose what he had; his beautiful and clever and wonderful girlfriend, a lovely stepdaughter and stepson. A little family like he had always wanted. They could’ve gotten a dog, he and Julia could’ve gotten married and they could have let a peaceful life. But could he still have that? With all that had happened?

He looked up at the sky for awhile, trying to see any figures in the dark clouds that had gathered over his head, like he had done many times as a kid. Normally, it calmed him down, but not today. He couldn’t get John out of his mind. And that kiss. It had been a mistake. Of course it had been. It should never have happened, but… But it had felt so good. Right, even, however odd that sounded.

When he looked behind himself at the house, he could see John looking down at him from the bathroom window. He looked just as pensive as Paul was feeling and that thought made him feel better. At least John seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation as well. He had to tell him though. He had to talk to him about what had happened between them. He had to tell him it was all one big mistake and it should never have happened in the first place, and that it wouldn’t ever again. That it was wrong and that it would never work anyway. The only way to fix what had happened would be if they decided not to talk about this ever again and never to let this happen again. It was the only option. Paul took a deep breath and continued to stare at John, being unable to look away just yet.

            Suddenly he was jumped by Jules, who laughed as she sat in his lap while Paul shrieked dramatically to entertain her. He could see John move away from the window from the corner of his eye.

“What are you thinking about?” The girl asked when she finished laughing. Paul sighed and shook his head.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About nothing?” She asked, frowning. Paul smiled and nodded.

“You can’t think about nothing.” Jules remarked, not giving up just yet.

“Says who?”

“I do. So, what were you thinking about?” She asked again, making Paul laugh.

“Adult stuff. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.” He answered, not being able to think of anything better to tell her. She’d know it was a lie anyway.

“I’m an adult.” She tried, but Paul only shook his head and moved her off him.

“Hardly, luv. And you’re lucky that you aren’t one yet. Now, let’s see if we can help your mother in the kitchen. It looks like rain, anyway.” He said, hoping to settle the little conversation with that. He almost sighed with relief when the girl moved off him.

“Alright. But only if you’ll take me to Blackpool again.” She said, folding her arms and giving him her sternest look. Paul tried not to smile and nodded quickly, trying to look afraid. The girl smiled happily and grabbed Paul’s hand before skipping back to the house, dragging the older man with her with surprising strength. Already he felt better.

            All throughout the day Paul tried to get some time alone with John, but never manages too. Not that John didn’t want to talk after what had happened. It was just that they were always interrupted, by Julia, his sister, the phone ringing. Everything seemed to try to keep them from talking. Therefore, Paul was glad when Julia came in with four mugs of tea that evening. When she said she’d be giving John his and would be back in a moment, Paul quickly got to his feet, raising a few eyebrows.

“No. I’ll do it. You’ve been on your feet too much already today.” He said, walking over to her and reaching for the steaming mug of tea in Julia’s hands.

“Really, it’s no bother. Besides, you have work tomorrow.” Julia said as he turned towards the door. Paul quickly stepped in front of her.

“Still, I can carry one mug upstairs, don’t you think. The radio show you wanted to listen to will be on any minute now. Just let me do it.” He pushed on. Julia glanced him up and down, thinking he was acting weird, before reluctantly handing him the tea. Paul smiled and kissed her forehead, saying he’d be right back.

            This time, Paul made sure to knock.

“What?” John’s voice came from behind the door and Paul opened it. He smiled when he saw John sitting on his bed, strumming his guitar. It was a song Paul didn’t recognise, which didn’t happen often. Needless to say, his interest was piqued. He smiled shyly when John looked up from his guitar and turned his attention to him.

“Sounds a lot better now it’s properly tuned, doesn’t it?” Paul asked, trying to lighten the tension in the room. John didn’t say anything in reply.

“I got you some tea.” Paul continued, lifting up the mug for illustration. When John again didn’t say anything, he walked over to John’s desk and put the mug down. He took a deep breath before turning back to John, his heart beating in his throat. This was going to be a lot harder than he had first thought.

“Never heard that song before. Are you writing it?” Paul asked once he noticed the pieces of paper lying next to John on the bed. The younger man only nodded, his eyes still focused on Paul. He approached carefully and sat down next to John. When he started to reach for the papers, he stopped himself.

“Mind if I have a look?” He asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t only a bundle of nerves at the moment.

“Are we seriously going to pretend nothing happened?” John asked, rather than answering Paul’s question. His voice was soft and sounded weaker than normally. Paul sighed and shook his head, looking down and avoiding John’s gaze.

“No. Of course not.” He replied, taking a deep breath. He could see John put the guitar aside, and turned his body more towards him. Paul forced himself to meet John’s eye. This time John was the one to look away.

“You can have a look.” He said, waving at the papers on the bed before Paul. The older man nodded and picked up a few papers look at it. Most of it had been scratched out, making Paul frown.

“I’m not that good. It’s my first song.” John admitted, faking a smile as their eyes met. Nodding, Paul laid the papers back down.

“John, we need to talk.” He said, his voice tight. John nodded in agreement, but Paul could see him flinching at the words. Deciding it was best to ignore that and get on with it, Paul took another deep breath and looked John right in the eye as he searched for the right way of saying what he wanted to say.

“What happened between us. This morning. That can’t happen again.” He stated, his heart dropping when he saw John look at him surprised, and a little hurt.

“Why not?” He asked and Paul sighed.

“Because, John, it was a mistake. We can’t do this. I’m dating your mum. I’m twenty-five years older than you! We could go to prison for what happened. Or worse! You know that, John. I know you’re not stupid.” Paul explained, trying to sound determined. He knew this was for the best.

“I’ll end up there one way or another, anyway. If not for love, then for something else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Hell, Paul, I’ll always be in danger if I get in a relationship with someone I love simply for that fact that that person is a guy. I’m not going to draw the line at a little age difference.”

“I’m twenty-five years older!”

“And I’m seventeen. I can consent.”

“People will question that.”

“Like they will with everything else. I don’t care.” John said, looking Paul straight in the eye. Paul sighed and shook his head, before taking it in his hands. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he had thought.

“John,” Paul tried again, “I’m going out with your mother. We’re doing well together. I’m practically your stepfather. If you don’t want to stop this because of the age difference or the fact that it’s illegal, do it because of that. Because I love her, John. And I want to be with her and one day I want to marry her. I want to live a relatively normal life, with a family and perhaps a dog. And I still want to have fun with you and your sister. But I can’t have that if we let this go on. I can’t risk this. I’ve been searching all my life for this. I don’t want to give that all up for a roll in the hey. It’s not worth it, John. Besides, you will find someone of your own age one day.”

“But I want you!” John said, looking up with desperate and saddened eyes. Paul shook his head.

“Is that how you think about this? About us? A relationship? L-love?” Paul asked after a few moments of silence. John shook his head and stared at the floor.

“I’m not naive, Paul. And no, of course I don’t.” He answered.

“This thing between us was wrong, John. The kiss was a mistake. You have to see that. You can’t defence this. We can’t do this.” Paul said again, his own body shaking and his throat dry. John gave a reluctant nod, but refused to look back up at him. Pal forced himself to smile at that, knowing he had won the dispute. He got back up on his feet and shot one last look at John, before he started to walk away. He felt sadder than he had thought he’d be. He should be glad he could’ve stopped this before it got out of hand. But then, why did he feel so bad. He opened the door again, and was just about to leave when he heard John speak from the bed.

“I meant it, you know. What I said. I never wanted anyone the way I want you.” Paul left without another word, knowing he was doing them both a favour. Someone had to be the bigger person here.

            That night John woke up to find Paul standing in the middle of his room again. It was still completely dark and John nearly screamed at the dark figure, pulling the sheets to his eyes, to shield himself. Once he realised it was Paul however, he sighed and let the sheets back down. He let his eyes roam over the older man’s figure as he continued to simply stand there, not saying anything and staring at John with wide, serious eyes.

“You won’t be making this a regular thing, are you? Coming into my room without permission?” John asked softly, his voice shaking slightly from shock. He chuckled lightly in an attempt to make the whole situation a little less scary. Paul didn’t laugh with him, though. Instead, he looked down at the floor as he slowly took a few steps closer to John until his knees almost hit the bed. John continued to watch him with curiosity, as well as fear, hoping Paul wouldn’t end up being a psychopath who was going to kill him and the rest of his family. He sat up a bit more and moved his legs out of the way when Paul decided to sit down on the side of the bed.

“Paul?” John asked carefully, grabbing the sheets again to hold onto now that Paul was still scaring him. When Paul looked up at John, the fear left his body, seeing he looked rather upset. His lips were red and broken where he was biting on it and he couldn’t stop fumbling with the sheets. His eyes were still wide, but looked a little afraid himself. Paul’s entire body language screamed insecurities and fear.

“Paul? What’s wrong?” John asked, moving a little closer to the other man and looking him straight in the eye, feeling worried now himself. Paul shook his head as he continued to look at him, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the sheets tightly twisted them into his fist. Paul’s lips parted and he began to whisper, but it was too soft for John to fully hear what he was saying, although it sounded something like he was saying he was sorry. John frowned at that and cocked his head.

“For what?” John asked, but Paul only shook his head again.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Paul asked, this time a lot louder and just as John had wanted to ask what he was talking about, Paul had leaned in and brushed his lips lightly against John’s, only hinting at the kiss, before he was pulling away again. John stared at him with wide eyes, his lips tingling where Paul’s lips had touched, and his heart seemed to skip a beat as his eyes found Paul’s again. Then something snapped inside of him and before he even knew what he was doing, he had pulled Paul closer by the back of his head and he was kissing him again, properly. Their noses bumped together awkwardly and the kiss was hesitant, both feeling nervous about what was happening. But when John felt Paul’s hand on his thigh that was covered by the sheets, he let out a moan and pressed his lips a little more against Paul, letting him know he wanted this. When they pulled away, both man were panting.

“I-I can leave. If you want me to. We… we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but… And please, don’t call the cops on me.” Paul spoke hastily as he caught his breath, staring deeply into John’s eyes and watching him intensly to see if there were any doubts. John merely huffed a laugh and his lips curled up in a smile.

“Don’t be stupid.” He whispered softly, before tightening his fingers into Paul’s hair and pulling him closer again, moaning at the way Paul met him halfway for an eager kiss, licking into his mouth almost immediately, making John chuckle again, before responding. He parted his lips and licked at Paul’s tongue and teeth, as he cocked his head and placed a hand on Paul’s waist. Paul responds in kind, his left hand cupping John’s jaw and forcing him closer, as he rubbed his thigh with his other, earning himself a slight groan. When he started to nibble at John’s bottom lip, the boy started to pull away and cocked his head back as he pushed Paul’s head lower. Paul understood right away and lowered his head, kissing wetly along the boy’s scruffy jawline, before moving even lower to suck a mark in the crook of his neck.

“So, we’re going to do this?” John asked as he breathed heavily, his fingers tugging encouragingly at Paul’s soft hair. Paul merely bit down the angry mark in response, grinning as the boy mindlessly thrusted his hips up, making his arousal more than obvious.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” John moaned as Paul moved his hand up higher and started to pull the covers away from John’s body, wanting to feel his skin.

“You should.” He replied, before pulling John’s head back down and kissing him again, all shyness and nervousness having disappeared.


	8. Chapter 8

When John woke up the following morning, Paul had already left for work. But John didn’t really mind that much. He had had the most amazing dream after Paul had left that night. He couldn’t remember what it was about, except that it had been peaceful and happy, and now John felt at ease, which he hadn’t felt for a long time. He could hardly believe what had happened and if Paul hadn’t left him a note on his bedside table, he would’ve been certain the light tingling he still felt on his lips was only his imagination.

He let out a loud yawn and stretched out his body, before reaching for the folded note with his name on it. He couldn’t help but smile when he opened it and started to read it.

_John,_

_I still feel weird about what happened last night, and I understand if you’d rather continue what we started and forget it ever happened at all. But, I also want to say that I liked what happened last night, and I don’t know if that makes me a bad person, but I don’t care. Honestly, my mind is a mess and I think we should both think about what happened and make a decision when I get back from work._

_Paul_

_PS. You should continue the song you were writing. I think it has potential._

John couldn’t stop smiling as he reread the note over and over again. Paul was so stupid. Did he really not see that he wanted this? At least Paul didn’t seem to regret what happened and seemed eager to continue it, even though he still tried to be responsible and adult-like. It was sweet in a weird way. He folded the piece of paper back up and slid it beneath his pillow, figuring he didn’t want anyone else to find it, but he didn’t want to throw it out yet, either. He got up from his bed, grabbed some clothes to wear and went to the bathroom. He needed a shower if he wanted to convince Paul he wasn’t taking advantage of him. Not that he ever could in the first place. If John didn’t want you, he wasn’t going to give you anything either. It was best for Paul to learn that very soon if they really were continue to do this.

            It was just after breakfast that someone rang the bell and John jumped up from the couch where he had been reading a book. Realising it could never be Paul, since he had to teach until four at least, he calmed himself down and scolded himself for acting like a bird. He was still muttering curses under his breath when he opened the door and came to face a pair of eyes staring at him behind a pair of black sunglasses.

“Good afternoon, prisoner. I’m here to make sure you won’t escape.” The young man said with a serious expression, his hands behind his back and his legs parted, making him look stronger and taller than he actually was.

“Fuck, Stu. If anything I hoped you’d come to set me free.” John laughed, opening the door a little wider for his friend, who simply shook his head.

“No. I caught a certain Richard trying to do that, with a knife hidden in nose, but I caught him just in time.” Stuart informed him, before stepping inside.

“Poor Ringo. The lad has to put up with some much already, being as little as he is with such a nose. He didn’t accidentally cut if off did he?”

“No, he fled and I can’t find a trace of him.”

“Well, there’s hope still for me, then.”

“Which is why I’m here.” Stuart said as he took of his sunglasses, making John roll his eyes.

“Thanks, man. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” John replied sarcastically. Stuart merely smiled at him and patted his shoulder, before pushing past him and into the kitchen.

“Don’t mention it. Now, mind if I steal a beer while I do my duties.” Stuart called back. John shut the front door and followed Stuart into the kitchen, where he already found his friend buried with his head in the fridge. When he looked over his shoulder, John nodded.

“Want one, too?” The older man asked, but John shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Just woke up.” He answered with a shrug, and Stuart luckily left it at that. Honestly, John didn’t fancy being drunk when Paul got back home, wanting to be sober and feel and hear and experience every little thing that would happen between them. Not like last night, when he had been a little numb with sleep still. When Stuart had gotten his beer, he took off his coat and walked with John to John’s bedroom to have some privacy if anyone got home sooner than expected.

Stuart watched John from the bed as John put on one of the records they had stolen from the shop and got his guitar. He smiled at Stuart when he saw him looking, before sitting down next to him, planting his guitar in his lap as he started to play along to the music, showing Stuart what he had figured out in the last couple of days.

Stuart listened intensely and sometimes asked a few questions, concerning how they would play the song themselves. John mostly answered briefly, wanting to play for a bit, feeling rather inspired with all that had happened. And who said happiness was bad for an artist and his art? After he had played the first song a few times all the way through, he got out his notebook and dotted down the lyrics with the chords they had to play. They went over the song together, finding ways to make it sound like the recording, but still with their own mark on it, often going too far and taking it a completely different turn and make it sound stupid.

They had fun and laughed and managed to actually get a lot done, before Stuart got up to get them both something to drink.

“Still no beer?” Stuart asked with a knowing grin and John nodded.

“Fine. I’ll get some delicious water. So much better than beer, right John?”

“I fucking hate you, Sutcliffe.”

            “So, what got you so happy in the first place?” Stuart asked as they sat on John’s bed with their legs curled up. Stuart was doodling in John’s notebook as John drank his glass of water that Stuart had gotten him and was still making fun off. The younger man looked up at Stuart with a questioning look.

“Excuse me?” He asked and Stuart shrugged as he continued to draw, keeping his hand in front of the drawing so John couldn’t see what he was drawing. When John leaned over to get a better look, Stuart turned the page away from his eyes, refusing to show him anything.

“Just asking. Since you haven’t been this happy since pretty much forever.” He said as he continued his drawing. John scoffed at that.

“I’ve been plenty happy before, you git.” He said, but Stuart shook his head.

“So you wouldn’t say this particular mood you’re in has anything to do with a certain male living in the same house.” He said, cocking his head to the sight to get a better look at what he was drawing. John looked away and stared before him.

“No,” He replied, keeping his face towards the wall and biting the inside of his lip to keep himself from smiling, knowing fully well why he was feeling the way he was feeling. Not that Stuart needed to know that. It was probably for the best not to tell anyone about what had happened. Paul was right. This was dangerous and they could both end up in prison or worse. Not that he’d think Stuart might snitch on him, but it was better to keep it quiet. “Why would it?”

“Just asking. Seeing as you told me about your dream. I mean, I did say not to do anything stupid, but knowing you, you probably did it anyway.”

“What are you implying, Stu?” John asked, feeling his throat tighten up, knowing if Stuart already noticed, it wouldn’t be long for anyone else to catch up on it, too. Someone a lot more dangerous.

“Did you… you know… tell him?” Stuart asked carefully, still staring at his half-finished drawing.

“No! I told you, I am not that stupid.” John quickly snapped at him, hoping to scare Stuart off, but Stuart didn’t even flinch.

“But you did kiss him?” He merely asked, this time looking up at John and removing his hand to show a drawing of John staring at Paul from across the kitchen table with love hearts swimming around his head. John stared at it, and couldn’t help but smirk.

“Ha! I knew it!” Stuart exclaimed, closing the notebook and sitting up onto his knees on the bed, facing John, who stared at him for a while, before answering.

“No! God, Stu! I didn’t and now shut up about it.” John told him sternly. Stuart studied him for a while, before nodding and standing up from the bed.

“Alright. Whatever you say. I’m going for a piss. Just wanted to make sure.” He muttered.

“What a good friend, you are.” John replied sarcastically and Stuart smiled apologetically at him.

“You know it, John. I’ll be right back. We’ll go over all the stuff for practise this Friday, yeah.”

“Sure. Believe me next time when I tell you something, would you?”

“Right, sorry.” Stuart apologized, before turning around the leaving the room. John let out a sigh of relief, before falling backwards onto the bed, being glad Stuart didn’t realise what had happened. He had to be more careful, though. Paul was right. This wasn’t a laughing matter.

            It wasn’t a busy day at school today. There were quite a lot of people ill, and Paul knew most of them had probably simply skipped the first lesson of the day. Most did, since not many people enjoyed English class at half past eight on a Monday morning. Not that Paul could blame them, knowing he’d skip too if he had the possibility. Especially today. He had a hard time focussing as he taught, so he mostly let the students work on an assignment they had to do.

After last night, all he could think about was John. At first he had been freaking out again in the bathroom when he had awoken next to Julia this morning, knowing he was fucking up what they had together, but he also knew he wanted this. With John. In all honestly, Paul wasn’t completely certain why he had gone to John that night. Not after he had finally managed to make John understand why they couldn’t do this. But when he had awoken that night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about John, the kiss. He had felt happy when he had kissed John. His heart had sped up like crazy and he hadn’t felt the same way since he had been a teenager. He had felt nervous and scared, but he had wanted it so badly, like he hadn’t wanted anything before. Not even Julia. John was exciting, dangerous, and… manly. He had thought he had left those days behind him, but John had awoken those feelings inside him again and they were strong. He hadn’t even realised he had gone to John’s room, until John had said his name. It was that moment, that he realised what he wanted and that he shouldn’t keep saying no to his own happiness. It was worth it, right? Maybe?

Paul sighed and let his head rest on his hand as he mindlessly stared around the room of students to see they weren’t doing something they were not supposed to be doing. He wished he could just go home. Had John found his note already? Probably, not, seeing as it was only a quarter past nine and John was still suspended from school. He rubbed his head and took a couple of deep breaths as he forced himself to pay attention to what he was supposed to be doing. Teaching. His job. If only he didn’t have a job so he could simply go home and ask what John wanted. The tension was killing him. He truly hoped John wanted this as much as he did. He closed his eyes for a brief second and remembered how John had looked last night, all sleepy with his hair messed up, lips red and swollen from their kisses. Paul had wanted to go on, but he knew they shouldn’t move too fast. Their relationship was already delicate and he didn’t want to mess it up or scare John away and have him go to the police. He wasn’t certain he would survive prison.

            “Paul?” A voice suddenly came from behind him, and Paul jerked wide awake. He merely stared at his friend’s face as he noticed him kneeling before his desk.

“Wha- what?” He started, and George laughed at him and ruffled his hair.

“You look like a lost puppy when you’ve just woken up, you know.” He told him, and Paul frowned at his friend, before looking around the room. The classroom was completely deserted.

“What time is it?” Paul asked, his voice croaky from his nap. George laughed again, before answering.

“You were completely out, weren’t you. It’s half past twelve. I was wondering where you were when you didn’t came in for lunch, so I thought I’d come look for you.” He answered, smiling as he continued to stroke Paul’s hair. Paul didn’t mind that much, and only leaned into the touch like a kitten wanting to be petted.

“What about the students?” He asked with a yawn.

“Left, probably. I mean, what would you do when you realised your teacher had fallen asleep on his desk?” George replied with a laugh, removing his hand from Paul’s head and standing up straight. He laughed even louder when Paul’s eyes went wide from shock as he reached for his face and started to inspect it.

“Oh god…” He groaned, and George laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“They didn’t draw any penises on your face, don’t worry. They like you too much.”

“At least something good comes out of being attractive.” Paul muttered with a relieved sigh as he dropped his head onto the desk again.

“What’s got you so tired anyway? You’re not normally one to fall asleep in class. Not even when you were a student yourself.” George asked as he got himself a chair and sat down at Paul’s desk as well.

“Just been thinking a lot.” Paul replied without thinking. Immediately he tensed up and tried to think of an excuse. When he couldn’t think of any, he decided to simply go with it.

“About what?” George asked, sounding genuinely interested. Paul lifted his head from the table to look deeply into his friend’s eyes. “What?” George asked, moving away a little under Paul’s intense gaze.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve met this girl.” He started and gave George a warning look when the guy pretended to be shocked by that fact.

“Oh god. They exist?!” He asked dramatically, and Paul shook his head in disapproval.

“I’m serious, Geo. She’s great, you know. But she’s young. Very young. I mean legal, but just. She erm… she’s been on my mind a lot lately, and I really like her, you know. And I think she likes me…” Paul told his friend, continuing even when George started looking at him with an expression that was somewhere between disgust, intrigue and excitement.

“Oh, you dirty dog!” He said, and Paul grimaced.

“I’m just not sure what to do.” He admitted, looking at his friend with pleading eyes.

“And you want my advice?” George asked, sounding honestly shocked. Paul bit his lip and nodded carefully.

“Yes.” He said. George grinned.

“Paul McCartney, skirt-chaser first class, needs my advice.”

“Yes! You don’t have to rub it in! It’s just, I dig her, but I love Julia, you know.” Paul told him. And George sighed, before leaning closer to Paul and forcing their eyes to meet.

“Paul. It’s probably just a mid-life crisis. You never liked anyone that much younger than you, and honestly, I think it’s a one time thing. It will probably be over in a few days.” George said, obviously trying to talk whatever was on Paul’s mind, out of it. But it wasn’t that simple, was it?

“George, it has already been a few days. I honestly think it got worse, not less.”

“Sure, but in a few days the feeling will go away. I’m sure it will. You might think with your cock at times, but you’re not one for going out with girls that young.” George told him, but Paul shook his head and looked down at his desk.

“I kissed her, Geo. I-I… it just happened and I kissed her.” Paul admitted softly, not meeting George’s eye.

He didn’t know why he was even asking George for advice. It wasn’t like he understood. It wasn’t some kind of mid-life crisis thing. He knew it was something else. And he knew he couldn’t simply stay away from John to keep what he had with Julia. It wouldn’t only make things awkward between everyone, but people would find out eventually. There would be tension and things were already not easy. Besides, it wasn’t just some girl. It wasn’t even just some guy. It was John. Julia’s son. But also, John. There was something about him and about them that felt just right. They had a connection. It wasn’t just a stupid crush. But George wouldn’t understand that. And for not the first time, Paul felt alone in his problems and he didn’t have anyone to solve them.

“Paul? She isn’t a student, is she?” George asked carefully, and Paul looked at him as if he had just gone completely mental. He would never do that with a student! That was wrong. Immediately, Paul realised just how much of a hypocrite he was.

“Right. Okay. I’m sorry, but I had to ask.” George said, looking truly sorry and Paul sighed.

“Never mind, Geo. You’re right. I know you are. It wouldn’t work anyway and I mustn’t risk what I’ve finally found. You’re right.” He said, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. George smiled back carefully and laid a comforting hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“You deserve to be happy, Paul.” He said with a squeeze. And with that he had giving Paul all the advice he needed. He deserved to be happy.

            When Paul finally got home again, it was already late, but he felt a lot better already. His nerves were still killing him, but he was glad he would finally get some clear answer so he’d know what he was getting himself into. He takes a deep breath and opens the door with his key, before getting inside. He shrugged off his woollen coat and and took off his shoes and scarf. Neither Julia nor Jules would be back yet, he knew, so he called up to let John know he was there. Immediately he heard John’s door open and two voices talking to each other. He frowned and went into the kitchen to make everyone a cup of tea. He tried not to feel disappointed by the fact he and John weren’t alone.

“Hello, Mr McCartney.” A familiar voice came from the kitchen door and Paul turned around with a smile to find one of John’s friends leaning against the doorway with a grin on his face. It wasn’t long before John appeared behind him, looking both excited and annoyed. Paul tried not to let anything show as the two boys entered the kitchen.

“Hello, lads. Stuart, wasn’t it?” Paul bluffed, hoping he got it right. The last time he had seen John’s friend Stuart had been when he had brought John home drunk and Paul hadn’t been able to see him very well in the dark. But the lad’s voice sounded familiar, so he hoped it was him. He felt himself relax when the boy smiled and nodded.

“Yes, erm… I didn’t think you’d know, seeing the circumstances of our last meeting.” Stuart said as he looked from Paul to John and back again with a calculating look that Paul didn’t particularly liked. He didn’t comment on it, though.

“Well, you learn these things when you’re a teacher.” He lied, winking at John, who was standing behind Stuart. The younger lad blushed slightly at the gesture, but tried to look unaffected and simply sat himself down at a chair and started to groan in annoyance, trying to catch his friend’s attention.

“You boys want a cup?” Paul asked politely, watching with sadistic amusement when John’s eyes grew wide and the lad started to panic slightly, obviously wanting to be alone with Paul as soon as possible. Paul couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same way, but he liked seeing John like that. John couldn’t help but groan when Stuart nodded and took a seat as well, as he started to talk to Paul, trying to get into a conversation with him.

            About half an hour later, when Paul asked them if they wanted another cup, John felt his heart sing with joy as Stuart declined and started to get ready to leave.

“No, I’m sorry, but I should go. But thanks for the tea. And for making sure John didn’t kill himself when I got him home. I’m sure he would’ve if he had been alone.” Stuart joked, smirking at John, who shot him a nasty glare in response. Honestly, he just wanted him out. He had been itching to get his hands back on Paul and finally feel his lips again and taste him again. His palms had began to sweat at the mere thought. He got up as well as Stuart did and dragged him out of the kitchen and to the front door.

“I can’t say I disagree. I hope to see you again, Stuart!” Paul called after the two with just a little too much amusement in his voice and John knew Paul had known exactly what he had been doing all that time, keeping Stuart here and slowly driving him up the wall. He ushered his friend to the front door and quickly grabbed his coat from the coat rack and threw it at his friend, who caught it with a smug grin on his face, before pulling it on.

“Bet you can’t wait to finally be alone with him.” Stuart teased him in a soft voice, obviously not wanting Paul to hear what they were talking about from the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” John hissed back, before opening the door.

“I know something happened between you two, John. I’ve seen the way you stared at him the entire time we’ve been having tea.” Stuart teased, whispering right into John’s ear, but John simply grabbed him by his coat and forced him out of the door.

“Fuck off, Stu. Nothing happened. I told you!” He snarled, hoping to scare Stuart, but his friend merely chuckled.

“If it makes you feel any better. He likes you, too.” He said, and John quickly threw the door into his face.

He nearly jumped a foot in the air when he heard Paul’s voice behind him. He turned around quickly and leaned casually against the door, but Paul already knew what had happened, for he was grinning at him, his puppy-eyes sparkling and his plump lips slightly parted. John huffed nervously with a light smile.

“Finally alone.” Paul muttered as he took a step forward, his eyes moving up and down John’s body, before meeting his eye. John’s breath got stuck in his throat as he saw pure want in the other man’s eyes. When Paul spoke again, he felt a lot braver and started to walk towards Paul. The older man smiled as John got closer and closer, until they were only a few inches away from each other. John looked up at Paul and met his eyes, looking into them deeply, before placing his hands on Paul’s shoulder.

As soon as Paul’s own hands placed themselves on John’s hips, John moved quickly, grabbing Paul tightly, before pressing him against the wall and crowding him there, pressing his lower body against Paul’s completely and letting his breath ghost teasingly over the man’s lips. When Paul couldn’t remain eye contact for any longer and let his eyes flutter close, John leaned in and kissed Paul urgently, pressing him even harder against the wall as he licked with his tongue across Paul’s lips, which opened almost immediately. John groaned when his tongue met Paul’s and he didn’t even notice it when Paul’s grip on him increased. That is, until he felt himself being spun around so their positioned where reversed. John couldn’t complain to that and merely moaned wantonly into Paul’s hot mouth, as he thrusted his hips up into Paul’s, letting him feel what he was doing to him.

“I want you.” John groaned as Paul thrusted his own erection into him in response, one hand moving up to grasp tightly at John’s hair, making John whine.

“Not now.” Paul groaned when John thrusted into him again, breaking the kiss, before burying his face in the crook of John’s neck to suckle lightly at his skin, being careful not to leave a mark.

“Please…” John breathed, pulling at Paul’s clothing, wanting more, but Paul shook his head and pulled away to look deeply into John’s eyes.

“Not now.” He repeated calmly. He was breathing heavily and his chubby cheeks were flushed, making him even more beautiful and desirable. In one last attempt to persuade Paul, he thrusted his hips into Paul’s crotch again, letting their clothed erections rub together, which made Paul growl from deep in his throat and push him even harder against the wall, which made John’s cock twitch desperately in his pants.

“Then when?” He asked, breathing heavily as his eyes fluttered close, wanting to feel more of Paul against him, wanting to feel his skin and the heated touch of his erect cock.

“Soon.” Paul growled before attacking John’s mouth again with his own, which made John’s knees weak.

* * *

 

John was sitting at his desk, staring at the blank white wall before him, as he waited for his detention to end. It was already late in the afternoon, and the knowledge that Paul was home alone right now, made John nervous. He wished he could be there with him, so that they’d have some privacy before his mother and sister would return, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Sure, he only had fifteen more minutes of this hell to go, but before he’d finally get home, everyone would be back already. It was frustrating, seeing as since John had started school again, he and Paul hadn’t found much time for anything more than a few chaste kisses, and John really wanted more. He wanted to feel Paul’s body pressing against his again, he wanted to taste him again and savour the shared kisses. Or better yet, he wanted skin-on-skin contact. Release.

He let out a loud groan as he let his head fall onto the table. He was the only one still left in the classroom, except the teacher who was supposed to keep a close eye on him, but had decided he’d rather read the paper. He didn’t even react to the sounds of frustration that John was making, no matter how loud. If anything was more frustrating than not being able to get some privacy with Paul, it was this. Sitting alone in a classroom and not being able to do anything for two hours straight. Even his boredom was bored of it. And two times in a row didn’t make it any better either. At least, he’d be realised of this prison in another thirteen minutes. John raised his head to look at the clock at the front of the classroom and stared at the handles, watching the minutes tick by until finally the school bell rang.

“Not yet, Mr Lennon.” The teacher called calmly from behind his paper as John rose quickly to his feet, causing the chair to tipple over and clatter to the ground. John groaned and sat back down in defeat, this time on the table itself, since he couldn’t be bothered to pick up the chair again.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up?” The teacher asked, and John frowned, wondering how he knew he hadn’t if he had his nose still buried in his paper. Still, it didn’t keep John from being smart-arsed.

“No.” He simply said, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. When his teacher said nothing in return, he sighed and picked up the chair again. Only once the chair was put back into position, did the teacher lower the paper and turned to look at John. He gave him a once over and frowned, as if he only now saw who he was dealing with, before folding up his paper and putting it back in his leather bag. He beckoned John over to him and offered him a seat by his desk. John took it reluctantly, glancing at the clock again and seeing five more minutes had passed. Time was devious, always going far too quickly or too slowly when he didn’t want it too, as if it was mocking him. He felt the urge to shoot it a nasty look, but refrained, knowing it was futile. The clock always won. Damn thing.

“You’ve been surprisingly quiet the last few days, Lennon. May I assume you’ve learned your lesson?” The teacher asked, folding his hand before him and leaning forward towards John. John rolled his eyes, before focussing his eyes on the man before him. If only Paul was his teacher. That would have made detention a lot more interesting for sure. He chuckled, before answering.

“Oh yeah. I now know I should control my dreams better when I’m in class.” He said and he didn’t miss the little smile on the other man’s face. It had disappeared quickly however.

“Well, I also hope you’ve learned how to actually stay awake in class, as well.” He said. John answered to that with a simply shrug. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You can leave now, Mr Lennon. I do hope I won’t see you here any time soon, however.” The teacher continued and John got up almost immediately.

“I had fun too, sir.” He said with a wink, grinning widely. The teacher chuckled at that and when he didn’t say anything more, John quickly left, wanting to get home as quickly as possible.

            Tomorrow it would be Friday, which meant his week of good behaviour would be over. He had actually surprised himself that he had managed to stay out of trouble for an entire week. He figured it had probably something to do with the fact that he had been busy fantasizing about a certain man, as well as making out with him. Kept him busy and it was a great way to relieve some tension and restlessness, that would normally have resulted in bad behaviour. At least they were getting something good out of their messed up relationship. Not that John would’ve cared if there hadn’t. He was enjoying himself far too much, even though he had never been this sexually frustrated before.

Which was why he had tried his best to stay out of trouble and not to give into temptations. Tomorrow his ‘punishment’ would be over and he had been such a good boy for Paul that he figured he’d deserve a little reward for that. The best thing was that Paul’s last hour was cancelled tomorrow (he had eavesdropped on Paul and his mother last night to arrange everything for that Friday_, which meant he’d be home around three o’clock. About half an hour later than John would be, and at least an hour before they had to get worried that Julia and Jules would get back home, leaving them enough time to do whatever. More specifically, to do each other. He figured he’d have to talk Paul into it, but he gathered that wouldn’t be too much trouble, knowing Paul wanted him just as much as he wanted him. It was his stupid feeling of responsibility and the fact that he was an ‘adult’, that kept him from fucking John into the mattress whenever he could, no matter who was in the house. John was almost certain he’d be able to talk Paul into it.

John went over his entire plan in his head as he cycled back home. When he got back it was getting windy and it looked like rain. He quickly put his bicycle away and locked it before hurrying inside the house, where he was greeted by a pair of plump lips against his. He would have screamed, was it not for the other pair of lips against his that muffled any sound he made. His eyes widened and it took a few seconds before John realised who was kissing him and that there really was no need at all to start screaming. Yet.

            “Be quiet. Someone might hear you.” Paul whispered urgently as he pulled away and reached behind John to close the door. John stared up at Paul, still stunned at what had just happened, making Paul chuckle at his expression. He wasn’t surprised John was a little shocked. He was a little bit shocked himself, but when he had seen John from the kitchen window, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He simply needed to feel John’s lips against his again and he had been waiting so long for him to finally get home, Thursday being the days he got off early. It had been rather frustrating, sitting at home and having nothing better to do than think about him. Paul knew there was something wrong with him for thinking about someone so much younger than him in that way, but he couldn’t find himself to care at that moment. Before John had even said anything in response, Paul had kissed him again, pressing him against the wall and cupping his face in his hands, sighing when John’s lips parted against his, allowing him to explore his mouth.

“I’ve missed you.” Paul breathed into John’s mouth as he pulled away a little, licking with his tongue across John’s bottom lip, enjoying the way  the younger shuddered against him with want when he did that. John liked to be teased, Paul had noticed. Which Paul didn’t mind at all. When John’s fingers found his hips and pulled their bodies flush against each other, Paul had to bite down John’s lip to keep himself from groaning to loudly. They had to be quiet, Julia and Jules being just a two door further in the living room. John whined at that and only pulled Paul even closer, his hips rolling up into his.

“Come on,” Paul said as he pulled away, his eyes lowered to John’s reddened lips, “Let’s say hi, before they catch us.” And John could only nod at that, but when Paul started to move away, he pulled him back again for one last kiss, making Paul laugh into his mouth. It was then that John decided he loved Paul’s laugh.

            The following day Paul knew something was going to happen. He wasn’t sure why, but John had been looking at him weirdly all morning and even now he was at school, he felt nervous. He was slightly scared what John had planned, not being sure what to expect, or if he should expect anything at all. Perhaps John had had another wet dream. This time involving him. Paul quickly pushed the thought away, knowing that if he followed that line of thought, he’d get hard and that would be embarrassing for everyone in the room at the moment. Besides, he had a class to teach. Which was much more important. At the moment, at least.

Luckily, as he got into the material he was supposed to be teaching, John slowly vanished from his mind and when his class started to fully participate and ask questions, Paul had totally forgotten about John.

“Afternoon, Paul.” George greeted happily when Paul walked into the teacher’s lounge with his package of sandwiches for lunch. Paul smiled at his friend and wished him a good afternoon as well, as he sat down next to him on one of the couches. He grinned when he noticed George was eagerly chowing down on a turkey sandwich. Some things never changed.

“Good?” he asked knowingly. George moaned lewdly, a smile creeping onto his face, making Paul laugh as he shook his head in disapproval. “You’re disgusting.” He said but George only shrugged, most likely agreeing with him.

“You and your wife should come over to me and my wife for dinner this Sunday. She makes the best food, I assure you.” George told his friend after he had swallowed his obscenely large bite.

“I’m sorry, Geo. But we can’t Sunday.” Paul said, as he picked up a sandwich himself. “John’s playing a gig and Julia thought it’d be fun if we’d all come to watch.” He added before taking a bite.

“He any good then?” George asked, his mouth stuffed with food. If Paul hadn’t been friends with him since they had been kids, he would’ve felt disgusted. Not he just nodded.

“Oh yeah. Though he didn’t know how to tune his guitar. But I taught him so now they actually sound decent, too. Honestly, I think he’s rather talented. He’s got passion. Although he could be better if he played more and got into trouble less.”

“Remember when we were in a band?”

“Those were good times.”

“That’s for sure. We should have been famous, you know.”

“Me and Julia will come for dinner next week, alright?” Paul asked, smiling when George nodded, before forcing the rest of his sandwich down his throat, before getting another one.

            When Paul parked his car before the house, he felt his nerves returning. All afternoon he had been crazy busy, marking some last assignments before the weekend and helping out some students who were having trouble with his class. One of them had asked for extra lessons, and Paul had promised to find her a tutor, which had proven to be more difficult than he had thought. But now he was back home again and he remembered the way John had been looking at him that morning, he felt his palms get sweaty and his heart beat a little faster. He took a couple of deep breaths before getting out of the car, knowing that maybe he had read John all wrong and there was nothing special waiting for him. But Paul simply had the feeling that there was. He tried to remember if there was anything special that day, but he couldn’t think of anything, so he simply got inside.

It was awfully quiet in the house, which Paul thought was odd since the door had been unlocked. Still, there didn’t seem to be anyone home. He took of his coat and shoes and put his bag away in the living room by his desk. When he looked closer at his desk however, he noticed a little folded up note with his name on it. Right away he knew who it was from. He had laid down a note for John just like this one last Monday. Curious to know what John had planned, he unfolded the paper to read it. The message was simply and clear, getting John’s intentions across. Still Paul felt his throat get dry and his pants tightened around the crotch area as he read the note again and again, feeling even more nervous now, as well as excited.

Have I been a good boy?

There was no way, but that it was John who had written it was unmistakable. There even was a little drawing in the bottom right corner in that particular style of his, showing his face with a halo above it. It was cute, but Paul knew what John really meant. He folded the piece of paper back up and put it in his back pocket, before going upstairs to where he knew John would be. His bedroom.

            Before Paul entered the room, he listened closely at his door, trying to hear if he was at the right place and listen for any indication of what to expect when he’d open the door. Figuring it probably couldn’t be much worse than John having a wank, which had happened two times already, he pushed the handle down and slowly opened the door. He gasped and felt his head grow dizzy when his eyes landed on to John.

He was laying on the bed, wearing nothing more than a pair of tight black drainpipe trousers, that hugged his form in all the right places. His hair was tousled and his cheeks slightly flushed as he looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes, staring at him intensely as he bit his lip and rubbed himself off on the bed. For the first time since they had started this thing between them, Paul could see John’s bare chest. He was slightly muscled and slim. He was pale and his chest was shaved, making it seem smooth to the touch. Paul’s mouth began to water at the sight and he had trouble breathing for a second.

“Welcome home, Paulie.” John spoke, his voice low and almost a hungry growl. He made for such a tantalizing picture that Paul couldn’t even laugh at the fact that it was ridiculous that John called him Paulie, even though he was twenty-five years older than John. He took a step closer and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it, just in case before stepping even closer to the bed, where John was still looking up at him, his hips rolling seductively against the bed, drawing Paul’s eyes to his bum.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” John continued, when Paul simply stood there watching him, “Like a good boy. I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I? Sir?” Paul almost came at the spot when John moaned out that last. He never knew that being called ‘sir’ was such a turn on for him, but then again he was learning new things about himself almost daily. He took another step closer until he only one a few inches away from the younger man. He lifted his hand and raking his fingers through John’s hair. He groaned when John purred like a kitten and leaned into his touch.

“I’ve been trying so hard to be a good boy for you, sir. It was so difficult, but I did it, didn’t I? I didn’t get in trouble all week, like you asked me to.” John mewled like a kitten, watching as Paul’s eyes darkened with lust, his pupils dilating at almost the same speeds as the bulge in his jeans grew. Only then did Paul understand what the younger man was talking about. He told him he wasn’t allowed to get in trouble all week or he’d be grounded. And John hadn’t. He had been a good boy for him.

“Aren’t  I a good boy for you, sir?” John asked, licking his lips and fluttering with his eyelashes innocently, his hips still rocking into the bed. Paul’s fingers tightened into John’s hair and pulled roughly, making him sit up on his knees and face him, before he leaned down and traced John’s bottom lip with his thumb, before pulling his lips apart and letting his finger enter John’s mouth. He hummed as his finger was engulfed in hot, wetness.

“Yes, John. You’ve been a real good boy for me.” Paul breathed heavily as he watched John suck eagerly at his thumb, moaning obscenely, obviously wanting Paul to lose control. But Paul had more control than he thought. He pulled back and leaned down to place a strangely chaste kiss to John’s lips, before moving away completely to sit down onto the bed next to John. When John turned around on his knees to look at him, he beckoned him over, telling him wordlessly to sit in his lap, which John did eagerly.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” John asked, trying to sound as innocent and dirty as he could at the same time. For Paul it was working, his cock now straining almost painfully against his underwear and jeans. He placed one hand on John’s hip and the other in the back of his neck, holding him firmly in place and allowing John little space to move. John opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Paul had pressed his lips against his again and was probing with his tongue between his lips, asking for permission, which John gave almost immediately with a moan, his hips moving in Paul’s lap as much as was possible with the way Paul was holding him. Paul groaned eagerly into John’s mouth when he felt John’s tongue curl around his and his arse rub over his crotch, directly over his clothed cock. God, he wanted more of that.

“John. You sure about this?” He couldn’t help but ask as he got a moment of clarity. John pulled away from him suddenly, taking Paul by surprise and looked deeply into Paul’s eyes, surprising Paul with the amount of dominance that had suddenly over in John’s body language.

“Don’t you dare say later now, Paul. We’ve all alone and no one will walk in. I want you.” John told him sternly rubbing at Paul’s hard cock with his arse, punctuating every word with a sudden jerk, “I need you. I want to feel you. I want to make you come. I want to see your face when I make you come. Please, Paul. I need this so badly. Wanted this for so long.” Paul couldn’t say much as he keened with every move of John’s hips, the friction being too good and he agreed with everything John was saying anyway, so he merely nodded as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling Paul was giving him. He moved his hand away from John’s neck to cup the boy’s erection through his jeans, making him whine.

“Yeah, Paul. That’s good. Oh fuck. So good, sir.” John moaned out, throwing his head back as he slowly slipped back into their little role play, smirking when he felt Paul shudder against him whenever he called him sir. He moaned softly at Paul’s ministrations as he continued to rock in Paul’s lap, enjoying the feeling of Paul’s cock digging into his arse.

“More…” He breathed wantonly and Paul could only nod, before removing his hands to take off his sweater and own shirt as well, as John watched. He licked his lips and eagerly started rocking in Paul’s lap, practically fucking himself back on Paul’s crotch, as he took in the sight Paul’s chest. He was surprisingly fit for someone his age. He had a bit of a tummy, which was adorable and wasn’t as muscled, but he was still slim and his skin was stretched taut over his chest. Paul obviously shaved his chest, but John didn’t mind. 

He moved his hand over Paul’s body to explore the man’s skin, rubbing him at all the right places, until his fingers reached his pink, erect nipples. Paul groaned as John pinched one lightly, his hips thrusting up into John, making him almost fall forward. Luckily, Paul was there to catch him and quickly wrapped his arms around the younger man as he kissed him deeply and passionately, breathing into the boy’s mouth and moaning his name. John returned the kiss immediately, and shook in Paul’s arms as his orgasm approached, making it difficult for him to decide what he wanted most, Paul’s skilled hand on his cock or the feeling of his cock against his arse. He almost cried out when Paul pulled his zipper down and dipped in hand into his underwear, his fingers curling around John’s erect dick and pulling it free. John shuddered as a the cold air touched the heated skin of his cock, but when Paul started to move his hand up and down as he squeezed lightly, all uncomfortableness was forgotten.

“Fuck… Oh fuck… That’s good. Please, don’t stop.” John almost begged as he began to rub against Paul at a faster pace, bouncing up and down on his lap as Paul helped him move with his other hand, keeping him in the right spot to get as much friction as possible. John didn’t last long after that. His head fall forward and rested on Paul’s shoulder as he continued to ride him, breathing heavily into his ear as Paul pleasured him and placed open mouthed kisses onto his shoulder.

“You gonna be a good boy for me, John?” He whispered hotly into John’s ear as John withered on his lap, his orgasm nearly quickly. John nodded eagerly and bit down Paul’s shoulder with his teeth as he let the pleasure take over.

“Come for me, John.” Paul breathed hotly over John’s ear, before licking across the shell with his tongue and pulling his earlobe into his mouth to suckle on as John shuddered and spasmed in his lap, his orgasm hitting him. Paul’s name fell from his lips. Paul continued to move his hand, squeezing tightly around him and let him ride it out, as John trashed against him, pressing down onto Paul’s own crotch, which made Paul almost lose control. Still he held onto John tightly as he came. 

He only started going after his own pleasure when John went slack in his arms, curling up around him. His body was pliant as he let Paul do with him as he pleased, his mind numb from the pleasure and intensity of his orgasm. Paul grabbed John by his hips tightly, his fingernails digging into his flesh as he rutted up against him, forcing John to move his hips with him as he if were nothing more than a toy. 

John caught his breath and kisses along the crook of Paul’s neck as he simply held on for the ride, secretly enjoying the roughness with which Paul was manhandling him. It didn’t last long for Paul to come as well, thrusting up one last time into John’s body as he forced him down and rubbed him against him as he came, his cock emptying itself in his trousers, soiling them. John continued to kiss him lazily as Paul’s eyes fell tightly shut and bit down his bottom lip as he breathed out John’s name. When he had calmed down a little he started muttering praises, calling John a good boy and handsome and so good, as he came down from his high, his body falling slack against the wall behind them, taking John with him.

“Thank you, sir.” John breathed out with a tired laugh as he looked back up at John, from where he was lying with his head on Paul’s bare chest. He couldn’t stop laughing after that, feeling too happy and content. Luckily, Paul didn’t seem to mind and pulled him closer against him, drawing lazy circles on his naked back as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“My good boy.”


	9. Chapter 9

John and Paul continued to lay on John’s bed for a while after that, enjoying the aftermath of their orgasms in silence as the smoked. Paul was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to blow rings of smoke, which John would then ruin by cutting them through with his fingers. He laughed lightly everytime he did so. 

Paul had an arms draped over his shoulder, holding him closely against him as John laid with his head buried beneath his arm, a ciggy dangling from his lips. He was actually rather adorable when he was numbed and relaxed from an orgasm. Paul knew they wouldn’t be able to lay here much longer, since Julia and Jules would be getting home soon, too. He was still wearing his ruined slacks and underwear, but he didn’t mind. In a weird way he sort of enjoyed the feeling, though he knew he’d love it even more if it were John’s.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” John asked with a sigh as he rolled onto his side, nuzzling his nose in Paul’s armpit. The feeling was ticklish, but Paul tried not to pull away from the younger boy, enjoying the feeling of his warm body against his. Instead, he tried to lift the boy’s face to look into his light brown eyes.

“What?” John asked with a nervous chuckle as Paul didn’t say anything and merely stared at him. He squirmed against him, probably feeling a little insecure about it.  Paul smiled at him and shook his head, before leaning in and kissing him lightly on the lips. He could feel the way John’s trembled as they touched, but as soon as Paul sucked one into his mouth to nibble at, he relaxed against him with a light moan.

“Do you want to know what I dreamed of?” John asked as Paul pulled away, his eyes still closed. Paul let his fingers run to John’s hair, pushing it backwards and out of John’s face, wanting to see him properly.

“When? Last night?”

“No. Last week. In class. You know, why you had to punish me and now give me a reward, which was great, by the way.” John told him with a smirk, lifting his hand to take a drag from his cigarette. Paul laughed softly and cocked his head as he watched the way John let the smoke simply escape from his mouth, creating a kind of veil between them.

“I’m not sure I even want to know.” Paul answered, his fingers still buried in John’s hair to play with. John didn’t seem to mind and took another drag, before replying.

“Well, I’m going to tell you ,anyway.” He said a little daringly.

“Oh, are you?” Paul challenged, taking a drag himself. This time it was John’s turn to chuckle.

“I dreamed about you, you know.” He said with a sigh and he laid himself down with his head resting on Paul’s chest, his eyes still on the other man’s. Paul blinked a few times in shock at that and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. John noticed and smirked as he motioned Paul to stay silent by placing a finger on Paul’s lips. Paul obeyed and kept quiet as John continued to say what he wanted to say.

“It happened right here, you know. Only you were the one on top of me. At first I thought you were the guy I had hooked up with the previous night, but once you were lying there between my legs, your hair fallen before your face, I knew it was you. You want to know what we did? Or what you did, rather?” John asked, teasing Paul by drawing lazy circles around the other man’s erect nipples, leaning down to give one of them a firm lick. He kept his eyes onto Paul all the while. Paul could only stare, so when he didn’t answer John’s question, John simply continued.

“You were sucking me off.” John told him, watching with a grin as Paul’s eyes went wide at that, “And you were doing it so good, too. You began teasingly, licking into the slit and kissing the head, before taking it into your mouth. And god, did it feel good. So wet and hot and tight. And you took me all the way down, too. Until I was buried all the way inside you, down your throat. God, and then you started to move up and down as you sucked and it felt so good. Even though it was a dream, it felt so real. So wonderfully good. And when I came, you simply swallowed it all, before crawling back up to kiss me. It was the best wet dream I ever had, you know.”

“Is this your way of asking for a blowjob?” Paul joked with a laugh, although he knew John would know what kind of effect his words had had on him by how flushes his cheeks were and by the way his cock was twitching in his pants against John’s thigh. The boy punches his chest playfully, before kissing the spot he had hit as an apology.

“No. Although I wouldn’t say no.”  He said with a cheeky wink, making Paul laugh once more, before leaning down to kiss John on the top of his head, before moving to sit up. John rolled off him with a sigh and moved up the bed a bit, so he was lying with his head on his pillow, where he continued his smoke. He watched Paul closely as Paul got up from the bed, put out his cigarette and started to pull his clothing on again. But even dressed he still looked like he just had amazing sex. He shot John a glare when he noticed John staring, before throwing him a shirt to wear as well. John didn’t catch it and let it simply hand on top of his head.

“Get dressed before your mother and sister come home. I don’t want to explain why you chose to walk around the house half-naked.” Paul told him sternly, as John took the shirt off his head.

“Yes, sir.” He said, with a cheeky wink and a lick across his bottom lip. Paul could feel that familiar pool of arousal heat up in his stomach again so he quickly turned away and walked to John’s door, which he unlocked, before opening it. When he was about to leave, he stopped himself.

“Why did you tell me about your dream, anyway?” He asked, not turning to look at John.

“Because I wanted you to know that I’ve been wanting you before you went all psycho on me and started to come into my room in the middle of the night to stare at me. I don’t want you to think you’re making me do anything. Because you don’t. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, because I would never let anyone touch me without my permission. I’m doing this because I want to, so don’t feel guilty or try to do the right thing or try to make choices for me. I can do that for myself.” John told him, his voice calm but stern. Paul turned to look at him, surprised.  But when his eyes met John, the younger man smiled at him, and Paul smiled back with a nod.

“I hear you.” He answered, before stepping outside and closing the door behind him, leaving John alone.

            John was early at Stuart’s place for their band practise. Only Ringo was there already and opened the door for him. Stuart’s place was a small little apartment he rented from a friend. It had a spacious, but not particularly large, living space, a tiny kitchen that Stuart didn’t use often, and a bedroom with bathroom. It wasn’t the cleanest place, and definitely not the cosiest either, but it had something familiar and John liked to be there. And it was perfect for practises, since there weren’t any annoying parents asking if they could keep it quiet.

He took off his coat and threw it in a corner with all the other coats, since Stuart hadn’t bothered to buy an actual coat rack of any kind. Stuart was lying on his couch, listening to some records with the songs they were going to play that Sunday at the gig. John felt in his pocket to see if the piece of paper he had brought was still there. He was nervous to be showing it, but he really wanted to. Besides, if Paul would come to the gig (which he still needed to ask), it would be the perfect opportunity. He hit the back of Stuart’s head when the lad didn’t even say ‘hi’ to him.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Lennon?!” He explained, rubbing the painful spot on his head as he turned to glare angrily at his friend. John merely grinned at him, before nodding with his head into the direction of the bedroom. Stuart crooked an eyebrow, not understanding what John wanted from him.

“Would you just come? I need to talk to you.”

“We can talk here, can’t we?”

“In private, Stu.” John said with a sigh. He could hear Ringo chuckle at the two of them as he took a seat as well and started tapping a rhythm with his fingers on the coffee table.

“You little love birds go have sex, then. I’ll wait here. I could try to drum at the same rhythm as your moans!” He joked, and both Stuart and John shot him a look, but Ringo didn’t seem to care. In all honesty, John wouldn’t have minded to have sex with Stuart. Even if it was just the one time. He had always found the other man attractive. But Stuart wasn’t into him, so he that was the end of the discussion. It would probably only make things weird between them. When Ringo only continued to chuckle at his own joke, Stuart rolled his eyes and got off the couch, before dragging John with him into the little bedroom.

            The bedroom was even worse. Stuart didn’t even have a proper bed. Just two rather thick, but filthy mattresses. A box of condoms was standing near one and John could see one package had been opened. He was tempted to ask Stuart about it, but he had more pressing matter to discuss with his friend. However, he wouldn’t have had the chance to ask about it, for almost right after Stuart had closed the door behind him, he was grinning knowingly at him, already knowing what John was going to discuss with him.

“So? Are you still going to try to persuade me that nothing happened? Or are going to admit that you kissed him. Because I know you did, John. And I doubt it only happened once.” He said, the smirk not leaving his face, even when John tried to convince him otherwise.

“Come on, Stu! Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened! I wouldn’t do that. He’s twenty-five years older than me.“ John tried nonetheless, although he knew it was futile. Stuart simply knew him too well. Of course there was no harm in trying. And like John had thought, Stuart didn’t seem to believe him.

"So you keep saying, but that doesn’t change the fact that you dreamed about him giving you a blowjob and knowing you it wouldn’t surprise me if you had at least tried to make it happen.”

“Yes, maybe if he wasn’t also… you know… doing my mum.” John told him sternly, stumbling over the words. Honestly, the idea that Paul was still sleeping next to his mother and kissing her and probably having sex with her, made him uncomfortable and jealous. Then again, he had always been the jealous type so it didn’t say much. The wording made Stuart snicker and he walked over to a mattress to sit down as they talked. John followed him with his eyes, deciding it was better to not try too hard to defend himself, because Stuart would see through that. But what was too much and what was too little?

“So you’re telling me you like someone and haven’t even tried to get them anyway?” Stuart asked him, squinting at him as if he could spot the truth on his friend somewhere. John shrugged casually and nodded.

“Yes, pretty much.”

“Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t like the idea of fucking the guy who fucks me mum.” John shot at him, blushing slightly at the words. What Paul and him had was fucked up, wasn’t it? God, how stupid they were being. He wasn’t sure what would happen if anyone would find out, but he didn’t doubt the fact that it would be worse than two years of prison or something like it. If the cops didn’t get them, the people themselves would surely take measures into their own hands. The thought scared him, so he quickly pushed it away and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Alright, then. So you two didn’t do anything. But I can see what you like him, though. Very polite, isn’t he?” Stuart asked as looked dreamily up at the ceiling. John didn’t answer, not trusting that his friend had actually given up on getting him to admit the truth so early on.

“And musical. He likes Rock ‘n Roll and can play guitar and piano, or so you told me. Must be nice to have something to bond over. And of course there is the obvious reason.” Stuart continued thoughtfully.

“And what’s that?” John asked, his voice a low grumble.

“Well, he’s fucking hot, of course. Damn fine. A little effeminate, but that’s so attractive if you’re into that kind of stuff. Which I know you are. I can’t say it doesn’t do anything for more, either. Those pretty, plump lips and perfect eyebrows. Those light wrinkles around his doe eyes, which are such a lovely hazel colour, you could get lost in them. Could you imagine what they’d look like, looking down at you as he made love to you, sweating deliciously above you as he thrusted in and out of you. Honestly, if I had to pick a dude, I would definitely choose him. Actually, I would go down on my knees for him before he could even ask me to. Or let him go on his knees for me, those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, velvet wet heath surrounding me completely as I savour the drag of his lips on the shaft. And then he’d look up at me. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind having a go at him myself. And if you’re not going to, why shouldn’t I?” Stuart spoke, lowering his voice and refusing to look at his friend, whose blood had started to boil with jealous fury. Paul was his!

“Fuck off, Stuart! He’s mine!” He couldn’t keep himself from blurting out. As soon as he had uttered the words, he clasped his hand in front of his mouth. His eyes widened in shock. He shouldn’t have said that. Of course, Stuart hadn’t meant any of that. He had only said it to try to get a rise out of him. How stupid was he?!

“Ah! I told you I knew you too well, Johnny boy. Don’t worry, though. I won’t touch him. I wouldn’t dare!” Stuart said with that same self-satisfied smirk on his face, his eyes wide at the fact that his best friend had actually did something - he didn’t know what yet, of course - with his mother’s boyfriend.

“Fuck off, Stuart. You’re a crappy friend, you are!” John told him, but walked over to sit down next to him with a sigh, thinking it was better to explain as much as he could now that Stuart knew. Stuart stared at him with curiosity, wanting to know what had actually happened between the two of them.

“You naughty boy.” He muttered and John chuckled at that.

“Actually, according to Paul I’ve been a very good boy.” He replied softly with a nervous giggle, finding it both odd and exciting to be able to talk to this about someone other than Paul himself. It was nice to have someone inside their messed up secret lives with whom he could talk about everything. Well, perhaps not everything, but a lot. Stuart chuckled as well and made a disgusted face.

“Kinky.” He said, before sighing and laying back onto the dirty mattress, “So what did you do?”

“We kissed a few times. First time was in the bathroom after he caught me having a wank, thinking of him. And before you ask, yes that was staged, but it had been for scientific reasons.”

“Which were?”

“To see if Paul would be attracted to me.” John muttered softly, making Stuart laugh.

“Alright. What else?” Stuart asked, still chuckling.

“Well, naturally he tried to make a one time thing. He came to talk to me and we decided we shouldn’t do that anymore, but then he came into my room that night and we kissed again and decided to just give it a shot. And then-”

“Give it a shot?!” Stuart gasped, sounding genuinely shocked, as he sat back up to look at his friend with wide eyes. “John! You can’t give it a shot! This is wrong, mate. You can’t secretly date your stepfather. It’s practically incest.”

“No, it’s not. He’s only living with my mum. They aren’t even engaged.”

“But what if they will be someday?” Stuart asked and John looked down at his hands. He knew Stuart had a point. He knew this whole thing he and Paul had started was naïve and it would eventually have to stop. And if Paul and Julia would break up, he wasn’t going to be able to start dating Paul himself. And if they got married, they had to stop. There wouldn’t be another option. They couldn’t possible continue, then. The whole thing was just ridiculous.

But he didn’t want it to be like that. So he kept hoping that they would make it work, one way or another. But of course he couldn’t tell Stuart that. He’d declare him a hopeless romantic that would eventually come to the conclusion that they would only find themselves in death. In which Stuart wouldn’t be wrong, but John didn’t want to actually die. So he remained quiet and silently kept hoping that he and Paul would work it out some way.

“Did you… have sex?” Stuart asked after a long silence, and John shook his head.

“No. Just some dry humping. Only once. Not because either of us doesn’t want to, because I certainly do and I know he wants to, as well. We just haven’t yet. We know it’s wrong, Stuart. I don’t need you telling me.” John answered his friend, refusing to meet his eye.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I know you are. But it’s not that easy, Stu.”

“I suppose. But you can’t let this thing between you and him go on, you know.” Stuart told him, but again John didn’t answer and simply stood up from the mattress.

“Let’s just leave this for a while and get some work done. I’m sure the others are already here.” John said with a sigh, hoping to be able to end the conversation, since he really didn’t like the way it was going. Stuart gave a slight nod, before getting up as well and following John back into the living room.

            John had been right. He wasn’t sure how long he and Stuart had spend in his bedroom talking, but when they came back into the living room everyone else was already there drinking and messing about on the instruments. When they entered some boys started making kissing noises, by which he and Stu merely replied with a glare and a rude gesture, before sitting down as well.

Everyone looked at John as if he held all the answers to the universe. It made John chuckle and he stepped over to the record player and put up the first single of the evening.

“Ladies and Gents! May I present to you, our newest editions to the set list!” He spoke in a posh, announcer voice, before placing the needle on turning record. Everyone smiled happily as they recognized the song right away. Memphis, Tennessee. John started to sing alone as he tiptoed back over to his guitar and started to play along. Quickly, Stuart and Ringo started to play along with him as the others paid attention to what they were hearing from both the record player and John.

The song wasn’t that difficult and as always Ringo had picked up on it quickly, playing along happily as the held perfect rhythm and tries out a few things that would make the whole song a little more interesting. John caught Ringo’s eye from the other side of the room and grinned knowingly at him. He and Ringo had always had that special connection when it came to music. Ringo always seemed to know exactly what John wanted him to play, even if John didn’t know it himself. They worked perfectly together. Even Stuart managed to keep up with them, since he had been practising with John. John knew he wasn’t the best bass player by far, but he was good enough. Besides, he was his mate.

After the song had ended, John went on explaining the rhythm and the chords to everyone and helped out a few people with what they had to play as the other practised. Once they all had it, they played it over a few times, before doing the same for the next number. This way things went on for a little while, with the necessary breaks in between with enough alcohol, ciggies and jokes. They had fun.

            Once they had managed to get through most of the songs John really wanted them to play for the next gig, he got out a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded him and tried not to smile as he felt curious eyes burn into his skin.

“What’s that, John?” Ringo asked from across the room. John merely smirked at him, before placing the piece of paper before him on his knee. He looked it over one last time, before placing his fingers on the right strings and started playing.

_Hello little girl…  
_ _Hello little girl…  
_ _Hello little girl…_

_When I see you everyday, I say, hello little girl  
_ _When you’re passing on your way, I say, hello little girl  
_ _When I see you’re passing by, I cry, hello little girl  
_ _When I try to catch your eye, I cry, hello little girl_

_I send you flowers, but you don’t care  
_ _You never seem to see me standing there  
_ _I often wonder what you’re thinking of  
_ _I hope it’s me, love, love, love._

_So, I hope there’ll come a day when you’ll say, you’re my little girl_

_It’s not the first that that it’s happened to me  
_ _It’s been a long, lonely time  
_ _And it’s so funny, funny to see  
_ _That I’m about to lose my mind_

_So, I hope there’ll come a day when you’ll say, you’re my little girl_

_You’re my little girl  
_ _You’re my little girl  
_ _You’re my little girl_

It was completely quiet in the room when John finished playing. He swallowed nervously as he looked around the room. People were staring at him, some open-mouthed, other just surprised, and Stuart and Ringo just looked excited.

“I wrote a song!” John said with a nervous smile. Some people now just looked impressed.

“You wrote that?” Someone asked and John nodded proudly,“Are we going to play it?”

“I wouldn’t have written it otherwise, would I?” John asked with a smirk, and Stuart quickly got up to turn off the record player so they could all focus on John and his song.

“Who is it about?” Ringo asked suddenly and John’s heart stopped for a second. He hadn’t expected that question, but he didn’t know why. It was only logical someone would ask. He shrugged.

“No one, really. Just girls, you know. Didn’t have anyone in mind.” He lied, but he could see Stuart glancing at him with a knowing look. John cursed inwardly, but quickly started to explain the song to everyone, not wanting people to ask any further.

            When John woke up the following morning in his own bed, he felt odd. Nervous, and restless and overall just anxious. Stuart knew about him and Paul and he obviously knew now that it was more than just sexual attraction. Stuart had known immediately he had written the song about Paul. It hadn’t been completely about Paul. He had started it ages ago, before he had even known Paul. But Paul had been the one to get him back into the art of music writing and he had been the one to encourage him to continue it. And yes, Paul had always been in the back of John’s mind when he had written it, so a large aspect of it was about Paul.

He had been naïve to think no one would ask him who the song was about. He could have said Cynthia and no one would have questioned it. He was certain Cyn wouldn’t have minded it one bit, even if she knew it wasn’t really about her. But now, Stuart had seen through his lie and knew what was going on between him and Paul. On his side at least. And John couldn’t get Stuart’s words out of his head either.

He had hoped to have been able to talk to Paul about it when he got home, but everyone had already been asleep. Perhaps today. Perhaps even now if he was lucky. He had to talk to Paul about it. Just to get it off his chest and get a peaceful state of mind.

John got up and quickly got dressed, before doing his hair and hurrying downstairs. It was late in the morning and he found his mother in the living room, cleaning. She greeted him with a sad smile and hugged him close against her chest. John frowned at her odd behaviour, but passed it off as one of her moods and hugged her back, telling her he loved her, before hurrying to the kitchen.

As he opened the door he was surprised to find Paul and Jules sitting at the kitchen table, a book with scribbles in it that looked like maths, in front of them. Jules wore an intense frown on her face as Paul talked to her in a calm and hushed voice as he pointed things out to her and gave her hints on how to solve certain problems. John smiled at the sight, finding it adorable how Paul good was with kids. He leaned against the door frame and watched quietly for a while, until Paul noticed him from the corner of his eye. He looked up at him and smiled when their eyes met. John smiled back at him and already felt his body relax and his mind grow calm again. He sighed and walked inside to get some breakfast for himself, already feeling a little better. If Paul could act like everything was normal, so could he.

* * *

 

It was the day of the gig and in only two more hours they would have to go on. It was the first gig they had in ages and John was feeling terribly nervous, especially now he knew that Paul would come to watch as well. Julia had told him during dinner last night that they had all decided they would come to see him play, which of course was amazing and as they weren’t that popular yet, it would be great to have some supporters there to get things going. But aside from that, it also made everything a lot more nerve racking. Now they _had_ to do well. What made it all even worse was that he’d be performing his own song. The one _he_ wrote. For Paul. And Paul would be there to hear it. Paul knew how to write songs, while John didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He just hoped Paul would like it. **  
**

John felt like hitting himself on the forehead as he remembered how he almost had asked Paul to come along with him for the preparations before the gig. That would have been awkward. Not that he thought that Paul might have agreed to come, but still the idea of him walking into the club with Paul next to him, was a little embarrassing to see the least. He’d be walking in with his stepfather! Well, sort of. But to everyone else that would have been the way it would have looked. John wondered why Paul couldn’t just be his age. He would have loved to get the man into his band, considering not only how he felt about him, but also the fact that the guy was basically a natural. He could write songs, play piano, play guitar, play anything really, as long as he had enough time to practise. He would’ve been great. But of course, he couldn’t let a forty-two year old man join the band. Besides, he doubted Paul would  have wanted in.

He took the bus to the club they’d be playing. It would only be a brief performance with a five minute break. They would play ten songs and then repeat two of them to finish it up. They had been playing most of them for a while, but they also had a few new ones. At least, they would start with Come Go With Me by The Del-Vikings, which was something they’d been doing for two years already. Actually, it was rather bad that he still didn’t know the exact words, but after having been doing their own version for so long, it could almost be seen as a classic.

Once he got to the club, almost everyone was there already, except for Stuart. He walked over to Ringo who was tapping onto a small table to go over the whole set list one last time and check if everything was in order. This was their chance. If this went well, then perhaps they would get more gigs. And more gigs meant not only more money, but also more fame. He greeted Ringo happily, who offered him a cigarette. John took it gladly, hoping that the nicotine would at least calm his nerves a little.

            About one and a half hours later, Paul sat with Julia and Jules on the bus to the club where John would be playing. He watched the world pass by him and pointed things out for Jules to look at, like dogs and cats and pretty things he thought she’d find nice to look at, as she sat in his lap. Julia was sitting on his other side, closest to the walkway. They held hands and Paul stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and smiled at her every once in awhile as he said something to her. She smiled back, but Paul could see she wasn’t really there. He lightly kissed her cheek and told her he loved her as a way to sooth her. She smiled broadly and whispered to him that she loved him too, but still she didn’t seem like her happy self. When Paul asked her about it, she said she was just nervous about that gig, but Paul wasn’t sure if he believed her. Still, he didn’t press the matter and joined Jules in a game of I Spy With My Little Eye to pass the time.

By the time the bus stopped at the destination, Jules has already jumped up from her seat and was rushing to the door. Paul and Julia laughed and quickly caught up with her before the doors opened. It was more than clear she was excited. Then again, she rarely got the chance to see her older brother perform on an actual stage. They got the club soon enough and it was already busy when they got in. Another band was playing and people were dancing, smoking and drinking, as well as chatting and laughing happily as they listened to the band. They moved a little closer to the stage, and Paul went to get them all something to drink.

Once he got back it was almost time for John and his band to go on. The other band got off with an applause and then John’s band, The Quarrymen, were announced. Everyone clapped politely as the boys got on the stage. They all took their places and got ready to start playing, nervous smiles on their faces. Paul searched for John’s eyes as the lad walked to the mic and started to look around the audience, looking for any sign of people he knew. Paul doubted he could see much, since he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but when John’s eyes landed on the three of them and he smiled broadly. Julia waved at him and Jules got even closer to the stage, obviously aching for her brother to finally get started.

He was wearing a pair of tight black trousers and a nice dark red sweater with a white shirt underneath. Paul gulped when he realised John had been wearing the same trousers last Friday when he had found him half-naked on his bed. Immediately he felt himself get hot and he he had to open the top two buttons of his shirt as he remembered that afternoon. How good it had felt and how gorgeous John had looked. Like now. Paul had to bit his lip and he bawled up his hands into fists to keep himself from actually grabbing John and snogging the life out of him. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but he did feel the extreme urge to do so. When their eyes met again and John winked knowingly at him, Paul knew John had done it on purpose. Oh dear, that boy was going to be the death of him someday. He steps closer to the stage to keep close to Jules, not wanting to lose sight of her. He took Julia by the hand and pulled her along, before wrapping an arm around her.

            John looked away from Paul with a cheeky grin on his face, knowing Paul recognized the trousers he was wearing. He turned back to his band and when the all nodded him, signaling that they were ready, John looked back into the crowd and started counting down.

“One… two… one, two, three, four.” He whispered into the mic and right on cue the started to play Come And Go With Me by the Dell Vikings. It went easy for them, and although his voice came out a little shaky at first, soon he grew more confident and at the end of the song, he felt good again and all the nervousness has left his body. He caught Paul’s eyes again as he announced the next song, That Will Be The Day from Buddy Holly. John had felt tempted to put on his glasses for the song, but now, looking into the crowd, he decided not too.

They played well, he thought. The energy on stage was good and even the crowd was enjoying it, singing and clapping along. Some of them were dancing. From the corner of his eye, John could see his mother dance too and by the way Paul was smiling and mouthing along to the song, he was enjoying himself as well. The response from the crowd was great, and soon John felt adrenaline take over his body. He felt good and turned to look at Stuart who was struggling with the bassline. John chuckled as he sang and Stuart give him a foul look, before breaking and laughing with him. Luckily, the song was almost finished and Stuart made it through the songs without cocking up too bad. Quickly, the move on to All Shook Up, which got them cheers from the crowd. John smiled at a girl in the front of the stage and she blushed, before winking at him, making John stumble over a word. Luckily, he managed to pull himself together after that.

He continued to flirt teasingly with the girl at the front, until he noticed another blond girl not that far away from him. Cynthia! He smiled at her as their eyes met. She looked as beautiful as always and she reminded John of the night they had spent together so many months ago. After, they had both agreed it had been a one time thing, but John couldn’t help himself from thinking about her like that every so often. She just was a great girl. Smart, beautiful and artistic. How could he not?

            Paul’s arm tightened around Julia’s waist as he noticed John playfully flirting with a pretty girl at the front of the stage. He was there and he had to go flirt with some girl? Of course he realised John probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it still stung.

“Paul! You’re hurting me.” Julia said as she tried to wiggle free from her boyfriend’s grip and Paul immediately let go of him.

“Sorry.” He replied quickly, moving closer to her again, “I was just-”

“Julia! Mr McCartney!” A loud, cheery voice suddenly came from behind them. Paul and Julia turned their head and were surprised to see Cynthia standing not three feet away from them. She was smiling at them and next to her stood another girl, who Paul recognised from his class.

“Cynthia! Miss Cox!” He said, surprise clear in his voice, “What are you girls doing here?” The girls smiled broadly and his student blushed as she realised she was now talking to her English teacher. She looked away shyly and focused her eyes instead on Cynthia. Paul noticed and couldn’t help but feel his ego grow at that, knowing she found him attractive. It wasn’t a secret most girls in his classes (and out of it) did.

“We’re here to listen to the boys, of course. Like yourselves. Are they any good tonight?” Cynthia asked cheerily, but with a slight grin on his face, obviously realising how awkward her friend had to feel at that moment, and enjoying it.

“They’re doing amazing. As you can see.” Julia answered her, before turning back to the stage to look at her son.

“And hear, of course!” Paul swiftly added, making the two girl chuckle. Miss Cox moved a little closer to hear everyone speak a little clearer, and when her eyes met Paul again, she giggled nervously.

“Can I get you girls anything?” Paul offered, trying to put both girls at ease. At least now he knew why John liked Cynthia. She was just as bad as he was, taking pleasure from other’s discomfort that she caused them. Her sweet and innocent look was an advantage for her, certainly. The girls’ shook their heads.

“No, thank you, Mr McCartney.” Miss Cox said softly, almost too soft to hear from above the music. Paul had heard her, though, and smiled kindly at her.

“Please, call me Paul when we’re not in school. It makes me feel old.” He told her and she nodded, before responding by saying her own name.

“I’m going to try to see John.” Cynthia interrupted, before walking off, leaving her helpless friend with her teacher. Paul beckoned her to stand with them and she nodded with a grateful smile. Paul turned to look at where Cynthia had disappeared to and was relieved when he noticed John was now looking at her as he sang. The other girl with whom he had been flirting was giving Cynthia foul looks, obviously thinking she had lost her chance. Hardly did she know that she never even had a chance to begin with. Paul smiled happily and as John finished the song, he clapped extra loudly.

            John felt a sudden lump in is throat as he realised what was next on the set list. He coughed, before taking the microphone. He tried not to freak out or faint as he started to speak.

“Thank you! Thank you, ladies and gents. Now… for something really, really special.” He started with a classic Lennon-smirk, and winked at Cynthia who had hopped onto the stage to sit, “A song, that I’ve written. If one could call it a song, that is. I’ll er… let you be the judge of that. It’s called My Little Girl.” John felt his cheeks burning up and cursed at himself for the lame introduction. The nerves got him again and his fingers were shaking, now from both the adrenaline and nerves. He took a few deep breaths, before nodding, signaling the band he was ready. He counted down and started play, keeping his eyes on Cynthia. He needed something stable to hold onto. Cynthia could give him that.

The first three lines went terribly. His voice was too high and shaky and he missed a chord. He must have let it show, for Cynthia and Jules (who had come to sit down next to her by her big brother) smiled encouragingly and it gave John that little bit extra that he needed. Once he got through the first verse and got to the chorus, he felt a lot more confident and one he sang a lot louder and better. He looked back at Stuart again who was smiling proudly and encouragingly and started to tap along with his feet. From the corner he could see Ringo move his head along to the music, giving him even more energy.

Once he finally got over the initial fear, he turned his eyes towards his mother and Paul. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was so nervous to see what Paul thought of it. He almost didn’t see him without his glasses on. Only now did he realise how much the people seemed to enjoy the song, dancing along and even trying to sing along to the “hello little girl” part. Feeling proud, John smiled as he sang the next line and finally noticed Paul in the audience. He was looking right at him, and if John wasn’t completely into what he was singing at that moment, he would’ve have stumbled over the words for sure. Paul was looking at him proudly, his eyes shining and head bobbing to the music. He smiled broadly as their eyes met and give John the thumbs up, saying what he doing was good. John sang the rest of the song while keeping eye contact with Paul. He was taken aback by the amount of applause they got once they played the last of the song. He bowed dramatically, before they started on the last song before their break, Blue Moon of Kentucky. Something nice and familiar to get them all relaxed again.

            As soon as they finished the song, John jumped off the stage to greet everyone, landing right besides his little sister, who hugged him immediately. He hugged her back as he looked up to say hi to Cynthia, who was watching him with a broad smile.

“You didn’t tell me you were writing a song!” She accused him and John merely smiled in reply as he tried to pull his sister from his side. Cynthia shook his head in disapproval, but she didn’t mind it too much that he had kept that from him, for she took him by his arm and started to drag him with her to where the others were waiting.

“Come on, rock star.” She laughed and John followed her happily, making sure his sister was following them. As soon as he got there as bottle of beer was immediately put right before his face, forcing him to take it without question. Not that John wanted to question it. Free beer, what more could he want. He smiled up at the person who had given it to him and was surprised to see Paul looking at him, still smiling.

“I told you that song had potential.” He told him as a way of greeting and John smiled back with a shrug and a light blush. He was glad Paul had liked it, though. He could see his mother looking at the bottle of beer in his hand, but she didn’t comment on it, for which John was glad. He knew he wasn’t supposed to drink quite yet, but it wasn’t like he didn’t drink normally. His mother knew that, even though she didn’t like it.

“You and the others are doing great!” she said instead, a smile creeping up on his face. John chuckled shyly, before taking a sip. He almost choked on it as Paul hit him on the shoulder. He raises an eyebrow when he sees another girl standing among them. He couldn’t place her very well, although he knew he knew her. Only when Cynthia said her name did he realise who she was. Ringo’s girlfriend! How could he not have recognised her. How bad of him. Maybe Paul had to punish him for it…

“Richie is doing well, too, isn’t he Maureen?” Cynthia asked as she took a sip from the coke Paul had gotten her, even though she had told him she didn’t want anything. Maureen had a class herself as well. She nodded and smiled broadly.

“Oh yes. I think I’ll go find him. I didn’t say I’d be coming so it might be a nice surprise.” She replied, drinking the last of her coke and placing the empty glass onto a table.

“I think he would like that very much!” John said with a suggestive wink, making Maureen roll her eyes at him.

“You were really great, John.” Julia said as he brought her song closer to her and pulled him into her arms. John smiled and kissed her cheek as a thank you, as he tried to pull away from her, finding it all rather embarrassing.

“Thanks mum.” He muttered when he finally managed to pull free.

“I’m glad we could hear your song. I can’t believe my son is a songwriter!”

“It’s only one song…”

“Don’t be silly. Not everyone can write songs, you know.” Paul told John and John flushed slightly at that and quickly looked away from the other man. He grinned when Cynthia kissed his cheek.

“You are great, John.” She told him and John really wanted to believe that. And at that moment he allowed himself to believe it.

“John, we have to go, though. It’s getting late. We’ll see you at home, right?” Julia said with an apologetic smile as she pulled Jules against her. John’s smile faded, but he nodded in understanding. He had hoped they could have stayed. Especially Paul.

“You know what? I’ll stay. I mean, I’d love to hear more.” Paul suddenly spoke. They all turned to look at him and John felt his heart speed up in hope. He could see Julia think about it from the corner of his eye. Still, he didn’t dare to look away from Paul, who was looking at Julia.

“I would like it if someone would stay.” John brough in carefully. Julia looked from the one man to the other and thought about it for a few seconds before nodding with a hesitant smile.

“Sure. I’m glad the two of you are finally getting along.” She said and Cynthia nodded in agreement. With that all arranged, they all said their goodbyes and John walked Julia and Jules out of the club before getting onto the stage again for their last session. He was grinning like an idiot, knowing that Paul wanted to stay behind to watch him play. With renewed energy the Quarrymen started with their next song, Be Bop A Lula.

            Paul continued to watch John and his band play, but mostly kept his eyes on John. He had a scotch in his hand and enjoyed the light burn at the back of his throat with every sip he took. He was glad he had decided to stick around. He enjoyed watching John perform. He seemed happy on that stage, as if it was all he ever wanted to do. Just play and not think of anything for a while. Paul could understand that. And on top of that John looked absolutely gorgeous. He was sweating now as they played the last couple of songs and his breathing was heavy now.

They were good. They really were and Paul was impressed. It didn’t even matter that much that John still played banjo chords, as it still sounded alright. Although Paul was certain it would sound even better if he would play the right chords. He should ask John if he wanted to learn them. He could teach him. It would be fun to spend more time with John that way. And it would give them an excuse to lock themselves into John’s room for a few hours. They could take advantage of that.

Paul chuckled to himself as he realised how weird it was that he was actually thinking about how to get the leader of this band alone to do the most dirty things with him. No one would ever guess he was thinking that. To everyone else he simply looked like a guy enjoying some good rock and roll music. As John started playing Love Me Tender, by Elvis, their eyes locked again and Paul felt himself reacting to it. He wanted nothing more than do just what John wanted him to do. He wanted to love him, tenderly and sweetly, and never let him go again. However naive that was. He laughed when John suddenly changed the song into his own song again and started singing Hello Little Girl again. Obviously it was the end of the performance and John just wanted to do the song again. Before the song ended, John put his glass aside and went to find a way backstage.

            John was surprised when he saw walking over to them as they got off the stage. He frowned, but still managed to smile at him when Paul was only a few feet away from him. The other boys turned to look with curious looks themselves. John waved at Paul, and Paul nodded before disappearing into the bathrooms. John licked his lips in anticipation and if it hadn’t been for the many people behind him, looking at him with curious looks, he would’ve followed him right away. Instead, now he turned around to explain.

“I err… Good gig! Good playing everyone! I’ll be right back!” Was all he said before he rushed after Paul and into the bathrooms. Everyone else turned to Stuart for answers, but Stuart merely shrugged, not having one. At least… an appropriate one.

            John grinned at Paul as he sees him standing in the middle of the room, looking at John with hungry eyes. Immediately John knew what Paul’s intention was, and he couldn’t find the strength within himself to resist. He quickly locked the door behind him, and before he realised what was happening, Paul was on him already, licking his way inside John’s mouth urgently as he moaned into John’s open mouth. Right away, John’s hands found Paul’s neck and waist and he pulled him closer, forcing their bodies against each other and letting John know he was all in, letting out tiny groans of his own. Paul tasted of scotch and  the smell of it as well as remaining alcohol made his head fuzzy. He clawed himself at Paul and pulled him even closer, cocking his head to the side to give the both of them more space. His heart was beating in his throat by the time they pulled away to breathe.

“You’re always eager, aren’t you?” Paul laughed as he forced a leg between John’s, feeling the hardening bulge in the younger’s tight trousers. John merely grinned and rolled his crotch into Paul’s thigh, and Paul growled before kissing him again forcefully. John moaned when Paul’s hand suddenly moved down and cupped him through his clothing, his fingers teasingly squeezing.

“Fuck…” John growled as he started thrusting up into Paul’s hand. Already he was fully hard and he wanted and needed so much more. Paul’s lips removed themselves from his own and found the pulsepoint in his neck almost on the first go. He sucked eagerly, feeling John’s pulse against his lips and tongue. A nasty red mark slowly formed itself beneath Paul’s mouth.

“Paul…’ John moaned helplessly, his head falling backwards against the door as he gave himself over to Paul, allowing him to touch and do what he pleased. His own hands he tangling into Paul’s soft locks to pull with, as he curled one leg around Paul’s to lock their bodies together.

“Fucking trousers.” Paul muttered as he moved his other hand down as well to undo both his and John’s trousers, needing more. John nodded in agreement as he continued to roll his hips and pull at Paul’s hair. He loved the heavy weight of Paul’s body against him, the hotness and the way he almost seemed to trap him, making it impossible for John to move away from him.

He gasped as Paul’s cold fingers wrapped around both his and Paul’s cock, taking them both in the same hand to wank them at the same time. The feeling was odd, but pleasing. Paul’s cock felt hard and velvety against his, and he could feel it pulse as they rubbed together. John mewled at the feeling and started to roll his hips forward and into Paul’s hand, causing more friction and soon he couldn’t even speak a word. All that came out of his mouth was nonsense. He wasn’t even sure if they were words anymore. Luckily, he was soon silenced again as he pulled Paul’s head up to kiss him again, one hand moving down to grab at Paul’s arse. He groaned approvingly as he felt how firm it was.

“John!” Paul moaned as his hand started to move more rapidly. John could only nod as he twisted against him. Already he was so far done and he could feel he was about to come. He shuddered and when Paul moaned his name one last time, he came, shooting up at them and coating both their cocks and Paul’s hand in his cum. Paul growled as he felt John come against him, his cock pulsing forcefully against his and it felt wonderful. It wasn’t long before he had to let go himself, which should have been embarrassing, since they hadn’t even been going at it for five minutes yet. But he didn’t care and simply enjoyed himself as he came against John, their cum mixing together.

“Shit.” He cursed as his knees started to shake. Carefully he moved them downwards and onto the ground and slumped with John against the door as they caught their breath, the aftermath of their orgasms still rushing through their bodies.

“You couldn’t wait till we got home, could you?” John chuckled after a few minutes and Paul couldn’t help but laugh along with him as he tucked them both back into their trousers.

            “Did you like the song?” John asked as he and Paul walked home. It was already dark and cold outside and John was shivering, only having his leather jacket to wear. Paul noticed and took off his scarf which he handed to John.

“Of course! It was really good. Even though you did  play banjo chords.” Paul replied with a nervous chuckle as John took his scarf and wrapped it around his neck. Paul had to look away, feeling weird about seeing John with his scarf. It had something possessive. And the fact that there was a nasty hickey underneath it didn’t make it any better.  

“Thanks,” John said as he relished the warmth of the scarf that smelled so much like Paul. Both men felt flustered about what had happened in the loo. It had been the first time they had let themselves go so freely and it was the first time they had done anything outside the house. It was a whole new level to their relationship. The walk a little further in silence, neither of them knowing what to say until Paul broke the silence.

“Do you want me to teach you? To play the right chords? The real chords?”

“You’re such a conformist.” John joked, turning to wink at Paul, who laughed at his joke. John laughed along with him as he continued to look at him, marveling at how pretty he looked in the moonlight, the few grey hairs in his hair seeming silver, his eyes sparkling gold.

“I’d like that, though.” John admitted as he continued to admire the other man’s looks. When Paul turned his head and their eyes met, John flushed slightly, feeling like he had been caught. Luckily, Paul merely smiled and nodded, but didn’t comment on John’s staring.

            At home they shared one last kiss in the hallway. It was brief and sweet, nothing rushed or aggressive about it. Not like before. They looked into each other’s eyes for a bit, before Paul pulled away to go to the living room, leaving John in the dark hallway, alone with his thoughts, before he followed Paul inside, liking the idea of talking to his mother before going off to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

It was now truly autumn. It was raining almost non-stop and dark clouds drove away the sun, giving it only occasionally the chance to shine its watery light on the puddles in the street. The wind was strong and many of the trees were already bare, their red and brown leaves having fallen onto the ground. Still, it was a cosy time of year. The wind howling at night and the rain tapping on the windowpanes with the occasional thunderstorm made John glad he was safely at home, curled up underneath a warm blanket with a hot steamy mug of tea in his one hand, Lewis Carroll’s book in the other.

He smiled whenever a particular part amused him and flipped through the pages endlessly, staring over again once he had finished it. The book itself was showing how many times John had read it since his mother had given it to him when he was little. The pages had yellowed with age and had little tears in them, the edges were curled or chapped off, the leather cover was worn and the letters almost unreadable, but that only made John love the little book even more.

Paul was sitting at the piano again, playing some classical pieces he had taught himself, which John vaguely recognized to be Chopin thanks to Mimi. Julia sat next to him, her head on his shoulder as she lightly hummed along to the music, her hands caressing the ivory keys lightly, careful not to accidentally press one and interrupt her boyfriend’s playing. Jules sat kneeling on the ground at the coffee table, drawing pictures from scenes in books that she had read. Overall it was peacefully quiet in the house as the storm roared on outside.

It was the first day of autumn vacation, one whole week of nothing for him, Paul and Jules. Julia still had work but had managed to arrange that she could leave early on a few days so they could spend some time together. She was glad that son and boyfriend finally got on together and was relieved she needn’t worry about John starting a fight when they were together for longer than five minutes. She had expressed it more than enough, through words, but also by encouraging the two of them spending time together to get to know each other. Although occasionally, she would get sad, and John didn’t have a clue why. Things between her and Paul were still good, weren’t they? He hoped they were. If only because he didn’t want Paul to leave them any time soon. He realised how selfish that was.

He put his book and tea aside and laid himself out on the couch, facing the ceiling and closing his eyes as he listened to the music that filled the room. It made him feel warm and calm. He enjoyed listen to him play and when Paul stopped, he opened his mouth to complain. But when he opened his eyes, he saw why he had stopped playing. He groaned in disgust at the sight of his mother and Paul kissing again. Or rather, full on snogging. John sighed and got up from the couch, deciding he didn’t want to stay any longer if he had to witness that every other moment. He grabbed his stuff and nicked his sister’s pencil sharpener just because, before heading upstairs without another word, letting the door slam loudly behind him as he pulled it closed.

            His room was a mess since he hadn’t found the time or need to clean it, having spent far too much time with Paul. He threw his stuff on his bed and grabbed his guitar. Perhaps playing some good rock ‘n roll would make him forget about his mother and Paul down stairs. It wasn’t that he had expected any different from Paul. He was still dating his mother and he could hardly stop because he and John were… were what? John pushed the question away from his mind and started plucking the strings. Paul said he would teach him the “real” chords one day. He had promised that when they had walked home after the gig. John still had his scarf. It lay deep inside his closet, hidden for his mother. He wasn’t sure if Paul knew he had it, but he didn’t really care.

He played silently for a while, humming along to the songs he was playing. Should he write another song? Something else to impress Paul with? Or perhaps he and Paul could write something together. That would be great! He was almost certain they would be able to come up with something good together. If only Paul would take his tongue out of his mother’s mouth for more than a minute…

            There was a knock on his door and right away John knew who it was. Ever since Paul had caught him having a wank (twice!) he had made sure to know every single time before entering, something John could not expect of his mother and certainly not of his sister.

“What?” He called, making sure to let the man on the other side of the door know he was a little pissed off at him. The door slowly creaked open and John looked up at see Paul hovering around in the doorway, unsure about whether or not to enter.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still standing in the doorway. John shrugged and looked back at the guitar in his lap.

“Sure.” He mumbled, “Just wished you wouldn’t push your tongue down my mother’s throat when I’m around, is all.” Paul chuckled nervously at that. John could hear the door closing, letting him know Paul had finally decided he could come in. He still didn’t look up. His body jerked when he felt Paul’s hand on his knee. He looked up to see Paul was kneeling before him. He gulped at the sight, his gaze not being able to leave those hazel doe eyes.

“I really should teach you the right chords.” Paul said as he studied the position of John’s hand. Immediately, John felt his cheeks heat up and he quickly took his hand off the neck of the guitar. “How about lessons? Starting tomorrow?” Paul offered. John grinned at that.

“Sure, but I don’t think I have the money to pay you with.” He said suggestively, and Paul laughed.

“I’m sure we can come to some kind of understanding, don’t you think?” He asked with a light smirk, his hand travelling higher up John’s thigh. The younger boy blushed even more at the arousing feeling and nodded, before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the other’s lips. Paul smiled into the kiss and squeezed John’s thigh. Once their kiss ended, he got up again. He spotted a package of cigarettes on his bedside table and took one of John’s ciggies, which he placed between his lips.

“Lessons start tomorrow then.” He said with a wink.

“Or we could start today?”

“Sorry. I promised my dad I’d come over for tea. Tomorrow.”

“Alright. Only if you promise you’ll tuck me in tonight.”

“Wouldn’t want to do anything else, luv.”

            Rain was still pouring down when Paul pulled up at his father’s house. He still lived in his old house, where he had grown up, with his father and brother. With his mother. He smiled as the memories that the house had awoken in him as he parked the car. He grabbed his stuff, and got out of the car, making sure to lock it, before running over to the house. Luckily, his father had noticed him pulling up and was already standing by the door, allowing Paul to enter immediately and not get drenched while waiting for him to open up.

“Paul! Son, how good to see you again!” He greeted with a toothy smile, opening his arms and giving his oldest son a warm and welcoming hug. Paul smiled as hugged him back.

“Hi, dad.” He said and kissed his father’s cheek before pulling away to take off his coat and shoes. It was good to see his father again. It had been a while. He had not visited him anymore since he had moved in with Julia, having been too busy with his new life and family. And John.

            He followed his father into the living room where he was told to have a seat. A fire was burning and Paul happily took the most comfortable seat in front of it. The warmth of the fire warmed him up, drying his clothes and hair and soon Paul was all dry again and sitting comfortably with a mug of tea in his hands. His father had taken a seat next to him and had turned his chair to face him a bit more.

His father looked older than the last time Paul had seen him. His dark, almost black hair, was greying quickly now and his face was more wrinkled. He had dark lines under his eyes and his lips, which had once been plump like his own, were now a lot thinner and paler. Still, he looked energetic for a man his age and seemed reasonable healthy. He was still walking perfectly fine and his movements were still smooth. Paul wondered briefly how he would look when he was his father’s age.

“How are you doing, son?” Jim McCartney asked as he too drank some tea. Paul put his tea aside on a side table and sat up a bit straighter before answering.

“Fine, dad. Splendid, really.”

“So everything is going well with the wife?” Paul sighed and chuckled at his father’s words, before reminding him he wasn’t yet married to her. They were just living together for now. His father frowned at that and took another sip of his tea. He seemed in deep thought and Paul could already guess what was coming next. He had actually been surprised he hadn’t asked him before, with Michael having had his anniversary just a few weeks ago.

“Why haven’t you two married yet? It would be the proper thing to do.” The question sounded.

“We decided to wait a little. We don’t want to hurry and it would not be good for the kids if they had to go through another even tougher break-up if things didn’t seem to be working out. We just want to make sure we don’t make any hasty decisions that we will regret.” Paul explained, hoping his father would understand. Of course that hadn’t been the only reason. It had been at first, but he knew Julia would say yes for sure if he asked, but what would become of him and John then? He needed more time to figure things out.

“Still, what if something happens, Paul? Would it not be better for her children if you were to adopt them?”

“Nothing will happen, dad.”

“And what about the neighbours, Paul? An unmarried couple living together. It’s unheard of!”

“It really isn’t, dad.”

“I’m only saying. Marriage would do you and that family of hers good. You’re forty-two and still unmarried. Your brother got married when he was twenty-four and he’s doing very good!”

“Unlike me, you say?” Paul couldn’t help but ask with a grin. At least his father seemed to understand the joke and merely smiled back at his son.

“All I’m saying is that you’ve finally got someone whom you care about, so why not tie the knot?” Jim clarified. Paul sighed and drank some more tea as he stared into the fire. Was he stupid for ruining what he had with Julia, who was a beautiful, free-spirited, witty and wonderful woman with great kids, who could offer him the life he wanted? And because of what? For what, even? He closed his eyes for a while and rubbed them with his fingers. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do anymore. Or actually, he knew very well what he was supposed to do. But that was not what _he_ wanted.

“I’ll think about it, dad. But me and Julia want to make this as easy as possible for the children, you know.” Paul said with a deep sigh. His father nodded and grabbed the cookie jar. He opened it and offered it to Paul, who smiled gratefully and took one with a soft 'thank you’.

            Paul spend about another two hours at his father’s, talking about all kinds of things like work, music, the last football match, his brother and, although briefly, his mother. Even though, he had lost her at the age of fourteen, it was still a subjects they rarely talked about. Those years had been tough for Paul, and especially because he had had no one to share the pain with, no one who understood except his brother, he had always felt lonely in his grief. When his father had remarried he had felt the same sadness again and it had taken himself a long time to get used to the new woman in his father’s life. Which is also why he hadn’t wanted to rush things with Julia. He knew how hard it was to get used to.

“Have you visited mum lately?” Paul had asked. His father had nodded and had told him about how beautiful her grave looked, even though it had been exposed to the harsh nature for a long time. Paul had nodded and Jim had continued the conversation by talking about Paul’s brother, Michael. The conversations about his mother rarely went any further than that, except at special occasions, with Christmas, her birthday, Paul’s birthday, New Years… When Paul had been in his twenties the three of them had long drinking sessions in which they would talk of her. But apart from those rare occasions, that was all they spoke of her. Paul didn’t mind. Never had, either.

            “I should probably go now, dad. Julia is waiting for me for dinner, you see.” Paul announced when he had finished his third cup of tea. His father looked up at him, as he had stared into the fire ever since the mention of his late wife, and nodded his head. Paul got up and let his father lead him to the front door again where he pulled on his coat and put on his boots. Jim opened the door for his son. It was still raining outside, although the wind had ceased and a few light blue patches coloured the sky. Paul smiled at his father and gave him a hug, before stepping outside and making sure to stand under the small porch above the door to keep himself from getting wet.

“You and Julia should come over for dinner some day soon.” His father said and Paul smiled half-heartedly at the offer.

“I think it would be better if you’d come to us, dad. We’d be happy to have you. And you can meet Jules and John.” Paul offered instead, already fearing what his father would try to offer them as food. Not that his father wasn’t a good cook. He had had to be one when his mother had died. But his age hadn’t helped to improve the quality.

“That would be wonderful.” His father said and they shook hands, before Paul turned away to leave.

“Say hi to her from me!” His father called after him and Paul raised his hand to say he understood as he quickly got into the car and slammed the door behind him.

            John jumped up from his desk chair when he heard the front door fall shut. Paul was home. He hurried down the stairs and was just in time to see Paul before he entered the kitchen. A smile broke out on Paul’s face as he saw John and he walked over to him, blocking his way before standing right before the last step. John stopped right before him. He was standing one step higher than Paul and the older man had to look up at him to look into his eyes. Still, he didn’t particularly mind the angle, as John looked gorgeous like he was, staring down at him with glistening eyes and a huge smile on his face.

“Hi.” He said, taking Paul’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, and capturing his lips with his own. Paul hummed appreciatively at that. John could feel Paul’s damp hair sticking to his own face.

“You’re all wet.” He pointed out as he pulled away, making Paul chuckle.

“Well spotted, Sherlock. It’s raining.” He teased, but John ignored him and took Paul’s head in his hands, threading his fingers through Paul’s damp hair.

“Makes you look kinda hot, you know.” Paul laughed and shook his head as he pulled away from the younger man.

“Later, John.” He said, moving back towards the kitchen as kept his eyes on the younger man, who pouted at his refusal.

“Is that your favourite word? Later?” He asked. Paul winked at him, before disappearing into the kitchen. John sighed before following him inside. Why couldn’t Paul’s favourite word be 'yes’ or 'let’s go fuck’.

            Luckily, John found that later wasn’t as late as he had thought it would be, but still, it was later than he would have liked. It was morning and the rain of the previous day had moved on to somewhere else. The sun was shining weakly and the sky was dotted with white clouds. Julia and Jules are at the park and after that they would do the shopping of the day so that he and Paul had the whole house for themselves. Because today was time for lesson number one.

They were sitting opposite each other, John on his bed and Paul on the desk chair, facing him. Both men had their guitars in their laps. John didn’t dare to look at Paul for long, since he was wearing his glasses. He couldn’t see anything without them so he really needed them for learning chords on those thin little strings that were almost invisible to him without his glasses. He felt embarrassed in them. Personally, he thought he looked weird with them, which he knew he shared with his mother, since she never wore her glasses either. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the way Paul was looking at him, although he doubted it had anything to do with the glasses. More likely, Paul was just horny. But they didn’t have time for sexy business now. They had work to do! Music  to be played! Chords to be learned! Sex could wait. For a little while, anyway.

            The first chords had gone quite well. The A minor and major, the C, the D, D minor and D7. E had been almost too easy, and so had E minor and E7. Still, with G he had had some trouble, as it took him a long time to figure out just where Paul was placing those damn fingers of his! And he made it all look so easy, too! On top of that, John didn’t have a clue how he would remember all of these. They seemed a lot harder than the banjo chords his mother had taught him. Still he didn’t complain. But that damn G chord was getting on his nerves.

“No, John. Put your pinky on the bottom string. Yes. Now strum.” Paul said as John tried his best. It was fun however, doing this with Paul. And the man did use his 'teacher voice’ which John thought was hot (which might also have something to do with the fact he couldn’t get such a simple chord right). He looked down at his fingers and did what Paul had said. As he strummed the chord sounded off.

“Press down harder.” John did and strummed again. This time he finally had it and a smile appeared on his face again. “Yeah! That’s it. Now play a few others and try to get it again.” Paul almost ordered him, but John did it anyway. He struggled a little to get the G right again, but managed and he looked up at the older man proudly. Paul smiled back and together they ran through all the chords John had learned so far. John mostly looked down at his hand, but he could still see Paul studying him closely.

“Why do you never wear your glasses?” Paul finally asked. John could hear he had been wanting to ask the question ever since they had started. It dripped with curiosity.

“I look weird in them.” John answered truthfully with a shrug, as he strummed the chords he knew in no particular order, smiling as he liked the sound of them in that particular order. He knew he should probably write it down before he forgot for when he wanted to write a new song, but didn’t dare to ask Paul for any paper. Not when he was looking at him like that. As if John had turned purple on the spot.

“Weird? I wouldn’t say weird…” He muttered.

“What then?”

“Well… sexy is a word that comes to mind.” Paul replied bluntly, making John look up at him in shock, not having expected those words from the older man’s mouth. He knew one thing for sure and that was that he did not look 'sexy’ with his glasses on. It didn’t matter they were Buddy Holly glasses. He looked like an idiot.

“As if.” John mumbled, looking back at his fingers on the strings with a light pink blush on his cheeks.

“Just saying, I wouldn’t mind if you wore them more often.”

“I bet you wouldn’t mind either if I were to call you ‘sir’ while we’re doing this.” John said with a knowing grin, remembering how Paul had reacted to that that one time. The older man, however, didn’t look away in embarrassment, but instead simply smiled back.

“You really shouldn’t if you want to learn more today.”

“Well, maybe I’d be more than happy to continue our lesson some other time, sir.” John replied with a smirk, looking back up to see Paul’s pupils widen, making his eyes almost black. God, he was hot.

            Soon the guitars lay forgotten next to them on the bed, and Paul had John pinned down on the said bed and was sucking all the air from his lungs as John whimpered beneath him, his glasses knocking awkwardly against Paul’s face, but neither men cared.

“So, this is how we will spend our vacation, then, sir?” John asked when Paul broke the kiss. He was breathing heavily and his glasses sat crooked on his nose, his vision being half blurred, half clear now.

“Unless you have any problems with that.” Paul snickered as he fixed John’s glasses for him. John shook his head and parted his legs for the other man, wrapping them around Paul’s waist and pulling him closer against him, lining up their crotches. Both let out a raspy groan as John rolled his hips upwards.

“Good…” Paul half moaned and kissed the younger man again as he started to thrust against him, rubbing their cock together through their jeans, his hand moving to grab John by his wrists and pin them down on the mattress above his head. The younger man didn’t object and merely rolled wantonly with hips, enjoying the forceful way Paul was handling him.

“You like that?” Paul asked, just to be sure and buried his face in John’s neck to suckle at the faint spot on his skin which he had left there the last time. John moaned at the feeling. It was slightly painful, the mark still being sore, but it felt so good at the same time.

“Please…” He muttered, spreading his legs even wider so Paul could move more easily and started to thrust up in time with Paul’s movements, enjoying the friction and wanting more. He was so glad they could do this now without being afraid of being disturbed. This was going to be a great week.

The moved together in union, moaning each other’s names as the suckled on each other’s skin and kissed each other’s lips. John wanted to remove his glasses, as they were awkwardly in the way whenever the kiss, but Paul wouldn’t let. He refused to let go off him and even when John asked to remove them for him he refused, saying he liked the way he looked in them far too much. Still, they felt oddly heavy on his nose as pleasure began to build up inside him. He was hot all over and his glasses clouded up with steam from the heat from both his and Paul’s bodies. Paul’s skin seemed to burn into his own whenever they touched and John wanted to feel more of him. He said so, but Paul merely kissed him and told him his favourite word again. John hated that word.

“Please, sir.” John tried again as he withered underneath Paul’s body. He felt trapped underneath him, powerless, but his made his cock hard and his mind numb. He could feel Paul was getting close, which would also explain why Paul would not pull away from him for one second to remove them of their clothes.

“No, John…” He breathed heavily into John’s mouth, letting John taste him again, before they shared another rough kiss, filled with passion and want and need for the other.

“Need you… Need to feel you. So close.” John panted as they broke apart again, letting his eyes fall close and biting his lip. It didn’t matter, he couldn’t see anything through his glasses anyway.

“Yeah… me too. Soon. Need you first.” Paul answered, sounding just as breathless. His movements began to falter, indicating that he was getting closer and closer, pleasure taking over his body. The grip he had on John’s wrists grew stronger and he removed one hand to grab at John’s thighs, which were still tightly wrapped around his waist. He pulled it up higher, giving himself even more space and he shuddered when he heard John cry out his name, the friction slowly becoming too much. It all felt so good and both men knew they wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer.

Suddenly Paul released John and instead tangled his hands into his air and he kissed him again, his nose knocking against John’s classes again as he forced his tongue down John’s throat, marking him as his. John moaned helplessly at that and grabbed at Paul’s body, his shoulder and arse, as he felt his orgasm approaching. When it finally hit him, he cried out Paul’s name into the other man’s mouth and spasmed as he came against the other man, his thighs tightening around Paul and holding him even closer. Paul groaned at the forcefulness behind John’s movements and soon came as well, suckling at John’s tongue as he soiled his underwear and jeans like a teenager.

“Fuck…” John sighed as he let his body fall slack. Paul collapsed on top of him, all the power in his body having disappeared. He nuzzled the nasty red mark in John’s neck as he enjoyed the aftermath of his orgasm and the feeling of John’s against him, breathing the same air and smelling like _John_. It was perfect for  a moment.

            It was John who broke the silence, his mind having started to work again after it having been numbed for quite a few minutes. He frowned and caressed Paul’s hair as he asked his question.

“What happened to your mother?” He asked. He wasn’t sure where the question had come from. Paul had never even mentioned his mother, let alone say something had happened to her. But he had only spoken of his father and yesterday he had gone to see his father, not his parents, but his father.

Paul tensed up against him, his body growing rigid and John looked down at him to see if he had said something wrong, but what little he could see of Paul’s face was unreadable, blank. John waited patiently, knowing that something must have happened, for if it hadn’t, Paul wouldn’t be acting this way. They lay there for a while, not saying anything and John waited patiently until Paul would start speaking. When Paul did say something, it was another question.

“How do you know something happened to her?” He asked and John shrugged.

“Well, you never speak of her and yesterday you went to see your father, not your mother and father. Just your father. I just figured something had happened, you know. Since you do speak of your father and brother.”

“She died.” Paul answered curtly. John swallowed at that and his hand stilled its movement as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Oh.” Was all he could say.

“She died of breast cancer. I was fourteen. She was a midwife.” Paul continued, his voice tight.

“I’m sorry.” John whispered. He meant it. He could not began to understand how that must be for Paul, having lost his mother completely at that age. And probably rather suddenly, too. Of course, John had lost his father, but that was different. His father was probably still alive somewhere. He was just a dick, really. Paul’s mother had probably cared about her son, judging from the way her death still seemed to be a tough subject for Paul. It was something very different and John wasn’t sure how to act or what to do.

“She was beautiful.” Paul ended with a sigh and John nodded but didn’t say anything. Neither said anything for awhile. They simply lay there, enjoying each other’s warmth as Paul remembered his mother and John tried to imagine losing his own mother someday.

* * *

 

Paul sighed contently as he finally slipped into the comfortable warmth of his bed. It wasn’t so much that he had had a tiring day - far from it actually - but still he had longed after this particular moment since he and John had spoken of his mother. Thinking about her and speaking about her to anyone who didn’t yet know about her was exhausting. Everytime he explained that she had died, he relived that moment when his father had taken him and his brother aside to tell them what had happened. It wasn’t pleasant and like how he had felt in that moment, he always felt as if all the energy got sucked out of his body.

Julia was besides him, propped up against a pillow, glasses on her nose which she had buried in a book. She glanced up at him and smiled as he simply buried his face in his pillow and moaned in satisfaction.

“What have you and John been doing all day that you are so tired?” She asked with a light chuckle. Paul felt his body grow hot at the questions, his mind flooding with memories of John against him, moaning his name. He pushed the images as far away as he could and sneaked closer to the woman besides him, wrapping his arms around her warm body and hugging her tightly.

“Nothing…” He muttered, kissing her clothed belly. Julia giggled at that and ran a hand through Paul’s hair, caressing his scalp and messing up his hair at the same time. She loved the way it looked when it was all messy. Like when they had just had sex. She felt a tingle near her crotch, but didn’t try anything, seeing how tired Paul looked. She’d rather not be disappointed when they would finally get going. So instead, she talked, ignoring her own desires.

“It’s John’s birthday soon,” She said and Paul hummed against her in reply, “I thought it would be nice to throw him a party. Since he’s turning eighteen and all. It’s an important age, you know. Especially for a boy like him.”

“Sure. Do you want to do it here?”

“Why not? I could bake a cake and we’ll ask John’s friends over and the band. We’ll get some drinks and food and good music! It will be fun!” Julia suggested, her fingers still running through his hair. Paul hummed in agreement, and didn’t bother to lift his head as he answered.

“If John will like that.”

“Of course, he will!” Julia exclaimed, already sounding very excited.  

“Okay, then. Sounds like a good idea.” Paul muttered with a yawn into the pillow, failing to sound as thrilled about the idea as Julia was.  

“Oh, please. Don’t be too excited about it!” Julia told him sarcastically, chuckling lightly. Paul finally looked up at her and smiled as their eyes met. He stared into her beautiful brown eyes for a while, before leaning up onto his elbows to kiss her on the lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. It’s a grand idea, luv.” He said as he broke away from her.

“Do you really think so? Because we could come up with something else and-”

“No! It’s fab. We should make it a surprise party, though.” Paul suggested, his eyes still taking in the delicate features of the woman besides him. She was so beautiful. So whole.

“A surprise party?” She asked, thinking it over in her head as he let her hand drop to her boyfriend’s waist, pulling him a little bit closer. Paul hummed as he went with her.

“Yeah. You know, we could ask Cynthia or Stuart to keep John busy while we prepare for the party and when they’ll come back it will all be a great surprise!” Paul said, smiling a little broader as he started to like the idea of a birthday party for John more and more. They really had to get him something special this year. Something John really wanted. Julia smiled back at his idea and nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s a great idea! But we should ask Cynthia to do it. Stuart will definitely let something slip. Girls are more cunning that way. Cynthia is anyway.”

“Alright! Cynthia it is. She’ll keep John busy and get him home in time for the party!”

“But we do need a present to give to John, though.” Julia reminded him. Paul nodded and thought about it for a while, trying to remember instances when John had let something slip about what he wanted, but he couldn’t think of anything. Until his own gaze landed on his own guitar in the corner of the room. He could pick one out with John. It wasn’t that John needed a new one persé, but his current one was so cheap it could literally split at any second John was playing. Besides, it didn’t have to be an expensive one, but something of a better quality than the 5 quid guitar he had now wouldn’t be hard to find. When he looked back at Julia and saw her looking at his guitar as well, he knew they were thinking the same thing.

          John couldn’t sleep that night. He was continuously tossing and turning and kicking at the sheets and throwing with pillow, trying the find a comfortable position that would allow him to finally stop thinking about his mother and father and simply sleep. It had been Paul’s fault, actually. After their somewhat awkward conversation - if you could even call it that - John hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Paul’s parents and his own.

At first he wanted to grasp the feeling of losing your mother like that, but then he started to think about his own father. It wasn’t that he wanted him to come back, or anything like that. He doesn’t really miss him, as the idea of him. If that makes any sense at all. He just wants a father again. Someone to whom he could look up and take as an example, but rebel against at the same time. Someone whom he could be close to, someone with whom he could laugh and talk and relate to on a whole other level than his mother. Someone he could rely on. That person was most definitely not his father. His father was a terrible person, if he honest with himself. No, he wanted someone like… like Paul. But not Paul, because that would be weird, seeing what they have done together already. It would be weird if he would be sexually attracted to his father. But someone like him. Paul was a fatherly figure. He was smart, responsible, but also a little weird and witty. He was caring and warm. He wanted someone like that to be his father. Or perhaps he just had daddy issues. How could he not, considering what a crappy youth he had had?

          The next morning John was exhausted and tried hard not to fall asleep in the car. He had only been able to sleep for about four hours and he felt as if he was actually still lying in his bed. And he wished he was. But of course, Paul had ruined that opportunity for him. John had actually planned to persuade Paul to spend their first day alone in bed together. But of course, Paul had to ask if he wanted to go do some shopping with him. Naturally, he could have said “no”, but when Paul had asked him he had been staring at him mindlessly and hadn’t heard what he had been saying and had simply nodded and now he was sitting in the passenger’s seat next to Paul, staring out of the small window besides him.

So yeah, Paul had basically tricked him. Paul definitely had known that John wouldn’t want to come and he had probably been aware of the fuzzy state his brain was in. Even now John could see him grin in the reflection of the window. Stupid bastard. Why did he want him to go along, anyway?

“Come on, John. Don’t be mad. We’ll have fun.” Paul spoke as he glanced at John, chuckling when he saw the irritated look on his face. John snorted and rolled his eyes.

“You tricked me.” He accused and Paul didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he merely looked away and kept his eyes fixed on the road as his moved his hand to John’s inner thigh, caressing John there through his trousers, slowly getting him more and more excited.

“Don’t worry, luv. We won’t be long. And we can do plenty of things together when we’ll get back.” He promised as John looked down to stare at Paul’s hand that was giving him a good feeling. His crotch was tingling and he could feel his cheeks heat up. He bit his lip and tried his hardest to ignore the sudden tightness of his trousers and swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.

“I still hate you for it.” He muttered softly as he looked away. Still, didn’t try to push Paul’s hand away; he enjoyed the feeling a little too much for that.

          They did the grocery shopping first. Paul would walk around and order John to get things they needed so they didn’t have to go to every single corner of the store. They got everything relatively quickly like that, and soon they were outside again with heavy shopping bags in their hands. They put them away in the car, but when John wanted to get in again, Paul stopped him, telling him they needed to get a new clothing for the both of them. John groaned at that.

“Can’t we just leave. Mum can pick it something out for us, can’t she?” He asked, his hand holding onto the door. But Paul shook his head.

“No, John. Come on, it’s the last thing we need and after that we can go home.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“How about this: after we can go look for a new guitar for you? To make it up.” Paul suggested with a smile as he shut the car door and locked it. John thought about that for a few seconds and had to admit that didn’t sound too bad. He really wanted a new guitar…

“Fine,” John said reluctantly, but a smile was on his lips, giving him away, “But after that we’ll go home, right?” When Paul nodded, he agreed and followed Paul back to the stores.

          The store was small and nothing too special. It had both male’s and female’s clothing, with the one on the left side of the store and the other on the opposite side. Racks were put closely together and John had to shuffle between them to manage to walk further without knocking anything over. Although it was a Monday, it was still rather busy at the store, which made it even more crowded. John stumbled around the store looking for a new shirt, like Paul had told him to do, as Paul got what he needed for himself. He was still tired, but was already feeling better.

As he passed a rack that was filled with girl’s underwear, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. Everything looked so soft and colourful and John’s fingers twitched with the need to touch some of the lacy panties. He turned and smirked as he saw Paul not far away from him, humming to himself and choosing some regular underwear. John wondered what would happen if…

“Paul! What about this, eh? Would look pretty good on you, I’d say!” John shouted at Paul, as he grabbed one rather revealing piece of underwear and held it up to him, the same smirk still plastered on his face. It grew even wider when he saw Paul blush and look away quickly.

“Put that back, John!” He hissed at him sternly, but John didn’t give up that easily. He quickly grabbed a matching bra and a pair of stockings and held those up as well.

“You could get this with it! I’m sure it would colour greatly with your eyes! And they’re really soft, too.” John shouted back with a wink, and Paul quickly turned around to focus on something else and simply tried to ignore the younger man, knowing it was futile to try to make John stop his stupid jokes.  But John wasn’t done quite yet. He walked over to Paul, underwear still in his hands and offered them to Paul.

“Come on, Macca. No one will see them anyway. I bet they would feel real good.” He said to him with a cheeky wink and Paul quickly snatched the clothing from John’s loose grasp and walked back to the rack where John had gotten them from and quickly put them back with a red face from embarrassment. John saw some people looking at them weirdly, and he couldn’t help but feel some kind of sadistic pleasure take over again. Even when Paul told him sternly not to pull such a trick again, he couldn’t stop grinning. Besides, he hadn’t just been joking.

“Sorry, Paul. I just thought they’d look cute on you.” He still joked.

“I’m not a bloody bird, John.”

“Could have fooled me, luv.” John shrugged and turned around to look at some other pieces of clothing. For a second he had thought Paul had left, but then he suddenly felt Paul’s body pressing against his back and something nudging against his arse.

“I’ll promise I’ll prove it to you when we get back.” Paul whispered huskily into John’s ear, and John tried hard to keep his body from suddering at the promise that was hidden behind those words. Already he could feel his own body respond in kind and he smirked before answering.

“I’ll be looking forward to that.” He replied, wiggling his hips lightly to tease the older man, but Paul had already pulled away from him again. “Maybe you should take the panties, anyway,” John thought to himself, “Just in case it doesn’t turn out as you might think.” However, that give John an idea. He quickly grabbed a shirt from the rack which had caught his eye a few minutes back, and handed it to Paul, who was on his way to pay. When Paul was far enough, he quickly hurried back to the panties and snatched a lacy dark blue pair, which he stuck in the front of his jeans. He glanced around himself swiftly to see if anyone had noticed, but no one was even looking into his direction.

“John! Are you coming?” Paul suddenly shouted not that far away. John forced himself not to smile or give anything away and walked over to him. Paul would thank him later on.

          “Where are we going?” John asked after a while when they didn’t go back to the car. Paul grinned at him and nodded to a music store further down the road. A smile broke out on John’s face and immediately he quickened his pace. A warm feeling ran through Paul’s body at the sight of John being so enthusiastic.

He still felt a bit weird about the girl’s underwear incident. He wasn’t sure what had happened exactly, but when he had seen John holding those lacy knickers, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from picturing John in them. And fuck… that image… he wasn’t sure if he wanted to forget it as quickly as possible or savour it. He had looked so… good, or gorgeous rather. The contrast of such a feminine piece of clothing on John’s hard, boyish body had been so arousing. But of course, John had been joking. He would never go for any of that. Besides, the idea that he found such a thing arousing was embarrassing.

They didn’t say much as they entered the store. It was large compared to any of the other shops, but then it had to be. There were a few pianos and large double-basses and amps and drumsets. There were walls filled with guitars and their cases on ground in front of them. There were racks with records and sheet music and corners with violins, flutes and trumpets and saxophones and many other instruments. The prices ranged from very cheap to very expensive to just unpayable. John and Paul walked past most of the things and went to the back where the guitars stood. Paul couldn’t help but see the way John’s eyes seemed to almost fall from their sockets as he stared at the many guitars before him. His eyes were continuously dragged to the most expensive ones. The ones he had seen his heroes play. Paul let him have a good look around and kept an eye on him to see which one John liked best as the boy started to look at guitars in a better price range. Paul pretended to look through a stack of records as to not disturb him.

He found an album of the Fats Domino’s and held onto that to buy as John picked up a guitar from the wall. It was a cheap one. Just a little more expensive than the one he owned now at ten quid. Still, Paul didn’t miss how John’s eyes were occasionally drawn to another guitar a little further down the wall. It looked gorgeous. A proper western guitar, made out of a warm, yellowish wood and with solid strings. The shape was a little rounder than normally and Paul knew it would sound great. And it wouldn’t have any chance of splitting. The price tag read 19 pounds. He checked the brand and decided to talk to Julia about that one. It would be the perfect gift for him.

He walked over to John and listened as he started to play a few songs, trying to get a feeling for the guitar. It sounded rather good. Nothing too special, but it sounded so much better than the guitar John had now. Paul asked if he could try and John handed him the guitar. Paul sat down besides John and started to play That Will Be The Day. John smiled and listened to him play. Once Paul was finished he handed it back to John.

“It’s a good one.” He said. John nodded and started strumming again as he inspected the instrument with care, taking in every little detail about it.

“Can I have it? Please?” John asked and Paul bit his lip and pretended to think about it. Of course, he couldn’t have it. It would ruin the whole idea of John’s present with which Paul knew John would be every happier. John was looking at him with pleading eyes and blinked innocently at Paul, trying to look as good and adorable as was possible to coax it out of him. Paul shook his head.  

“I’d have to talk to your mum about that.” He said. John groaned.

“Aw, come on, Paul! I’m sure she’d be okay with it! Besides, you could buy it for me with your own money.” He tried, but Paul shook his head again.

“That’s not how it works John. I’ll talk to you mum about it and if she says yes, you’ll get it. Okay?”

“Or I could ask Mimi instead.” John said, sounding both a pissed and sad. Paul merely laughed at the threat, knowing John was bluffing, as his aunt did absolutely not approve of his aspiration in music and would never give him a guitar.

“I’m not stupid, John. I know Mimi.” He told him and John grumbled a curse, which Paul chose to ignore. He took the guitar from John and hung it back on the wall.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Then buy to for me as my…” John started, but he wasn’t sure how to continue that sentence. Paul bit his lip. He knew what John wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure either what they were of each other. It had never seemed like a big deal, but at times like these it sort of stung.

“No, John. I couldn’t get away with that. Julia would get suspicious. Now shut up about it and let’s go home. I will ask her after dinner tonight and if she says yes, we’ll pick it up tomorrow, alright.”

“But why can’t we just get it now. I need a new guitar, Paul. Mine is on the verge of breaking in two.”

“No, John. It’s a lot of money. I can’t just buy it for you.”

“Then for my birthday.”

“John, just let it go, alright. If Julia says you can have it, you can, alright?” Paul told him sternly, getting fed up with John’s behaviour. He wished he could just tell John what he was planning on actually getting him, but he wanted it to be a surprise. As did Julia and she would definitely be mad if he would tell John. John grumbled another word curse before giving into Paul.

“Fine.” He mumbled and angrily stamped out of the shop. Paul sighed deeply, being glad that was over before following him.

          In the car however, it still wasn’t ‘fine’ like John had said. He was stubbornly ignoring Paul and simply refused to speak to him or even look at him. He sat with his arms crossed before his chest in the passenger’s seat and stared angrily out of the window, occasionally throwing insults at random things he saw in the street or at Paul.

“John, come on. You’re acting like a little kid.” Paul told John with a sigh as he tried not to get angry with John. He had his eyes firmly on the street, but he could still see John from the corner of his eye and it started to aggravate him. When John merely grunted at him, he had to tighten his fingers around the wheel to control himself. “You’re being a spoilt brat! You’ll probably get it tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t. Julia never gets me anything when it’s nearly my birthday. Or after it because then it’s almost Christmas. She thinks I won’t appreciate the other gifts. Which is crap. So, no, Paul. I won’t get it. I’ll probably have to wait until bloody spring until I get anything.” John snapped.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“If you had just got me the damn thing, I would have had it and I wouldn’t have to wait forever.”

“And she’d get mad at me, probably.”

“No she wouldn’t. You only have to flutter your pretty eyes and wiggle your arse and she’d have forgotten all about it again. Like you always do when the two of you are fighting.”

“John!”

“What? It’s true, innit?” John exclaimed.

“I don’t do that, John!”

“Don’t you? Because that’s what it looks like. It’s pretty selfish actually, doing it for yourself and not for me. Your fucking almost fucking stepson who’s keeping your bed warm whenever you’re horny.”

“It’s not about that! You know that.”

“Then what is it about, Paul? Because I don’t know!” John asked, his voice high and loud. Paul didn’t answer him and stared before him, his blood rushing through his ears in anger.

“Why are you even mad at me, John? Because I doubt it’s actually about a bloody guitar, is it?” Paul asked after a few seconds of tense silence. He looked at him from the corner of his eye, but John had turned his head away from him again.

“Nothing.”

“As if!” Paul laughed, his body starting to shake as adrenalin started to rush through his veins.

“Just forget it.” John answered him softly. He sounded a little broken and Paul felt a cold shudder run across his spine, guilt taking over now. He sighed as he began to speak again.

“John, I’m sorry, alright. Let’s just get home and I’ll talk to your mother about the guitar and see what I can do alright?” He said in a calm voice. John turned to him in surprise.

“What are you apologizing for? I was the one giving you crap!” He asked, and Paul shrugged and gave John a careful smile, but didn’t answer him. John couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape his lips.

“Now you really do sound like a father, you know.” He said and Paul felt his body relax, feeling glad that John wasn’t yelling at him anymore. He didn’t like fighting with him. Not like that.

“But I’m not, though.” He said and John chuckled again and looked down at his fingers, with which he was now playing, feeling slightly embarrassed about having gone off to Paul like that. Paul couldn’t look away from him for a while, knowing how John felt sorry but was having a hard time saying it. Suddenly, John looked up and his eyes went wide, before he gave a loud cry.

“Watch out!” He shouted loudly, his voice high with fright, and Paul quickly looked back at the road where he saw another car approaching them with a high speed. Unaware, Paul had steered the car to the right lane and was driving right into the direction of the other car.

“Dad!” John shouted and Paul finally reacted, the shock leaving his body to make place for his survival instinct and he immediately turned the wheel, sending them and the car to the left, as he hit the breaks, making them stop on the other side of the road with the front wheels on the curb. Paul and John sat there, in the car, shaking and trembling and looking as white as a sheet. No one spoke, but when John finally let out a relieved sigh, Paul realised John had cried out for him as “dad”.


	11. Chapter 11

“J-John…” Paul asked carefully after a long moment of silence, “A-are you… okay?” His voice was as shaky as his body. He wasn’t hurt that badly, and would probably come off with some light bruises for as far as he could tell at that moment. They hadn’t hit anything, thank God, so the car would be fine to he hoped. They had been very lucky. He glanced besides him at John, who wasn’t looking much better than he was feeling. He was as white as a sheet and was trembling visibly and seemed to have trouble breathing, as Paul couldn’t see his chest move, like it was supposed to. “John?” He asked again.

“Wha… Yeah, yeah… I’m alright.” John answered, his voice tight. Paul nodded and flinched as he felt a sudden spark in his neck, followed by an overwhelming heat. He groaned and reached behind him to rub his neck. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as fine as he had thought. Still, he had probably made a sudden move or something, as the pain left his neck quickly again as he rubbed it soothingly.

“A-are you?” John asked. He was looking at him from the corner of his eye, as he lowered his head a little. Probably, he was embarrassed about what he had said. Paul couldn’t say he wouldn’t have been either, and honestly he wasn’t sure how he felt about that either.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Silence. Paul looked around, slowly as not to hurt his neck again, and frowned when he couldn’t see the other car, which which they had almost collided. The arse had probably drove on. Stupid bastard. Paul could see some other people, who had gathered around the car and were inspecting it with curious and anxious looks on their face. Paul caught an old woman’s eyes and grimaced at her in a faint attempt to let her know they were alright. She nodded, and took a step away, as if she was afraid the car would explode or something. Normally, he would have thought it amusing, but now his mind was too preoccupied to see the humour.

“Looks like we might make the headlines of the local newspaper.” John noted suddenly besides him. He was mumbling and had his head still bowed and his body turned slightly away. Paul swallowed. He knew he should address the matter, as John obviously knew he had heard him. They could not just ignore it. However embarrassing that conversation might be. But perhaps this wasn’t the right time or place to bright it up. When John lifted his hand and pointed somewhere into the small crowd of people, Paul silently followed his finger and saw a man dotting some things down quickly in a notebook. What a coincidence. Paul groaned and started to massage his forehead as his brain began to throb. Perhaps it was best to get them home as soon and safely as possible before worrying about anything else.

“Let’s just head home, alright?” Paul asked John and when he saw him nodding he added, “We should talk.” John’s eyes went wide and he turned his head swiftly to look at Paul with a slightly frightened expression on his face. Of course, John knew what he was referring to. The boy wasn’t stupid. He might act like it at times, but he really wasn’t. Paul turned his head as well and smiled tentatively when their eyes met. For a second they just looked into each other’s eyes, until John started to squirm under his gaze and looked away and back out of the window.

          There was a tap on the window. It frightened Paul and his body hurt slightly as it tensed up in fright. He swore under his breath- earning himself a chuckle from John-, before rolling the window down to speak with the woman who had tapped on it.

“Are you men alright?” She asked. She was in her early thirties and rather attractive, Paul had to admit. He flashed her a charming smile, hoping to charm his way out of this situation. He did not want to speak to this woman. He just wanted to go home, have a cup of tea to calm his nerves and ask John what the hell he had been thinking calling him “dad”, even if it had perhaps saved his life.

“Yes, we’re alright, thank you. Just a scratch and bruise or two perhaps. Nothing to worry about.” He answered the woman, who was blushing slightly.

“I say, you surely got lucky. I was watching when it happened and I was afraid I’d have to go up to someone’s house to use their phone! It was a really close call.” The woman continued and Paul tried to keep himself under control and not tell the woman to get lost.

“We really were. Now, if you’ll excuse us. I think it would be best to go home and check for damage and any injuries.”

“If you want, you could come by my house to do so. I live very nearby.” The woman offered, and Paul grinned at her boldness, knowing fully well what she was trying to do. Sadly, he had already one lover too many as he considered himself a loyal fellow.

“I’m sorry, Miss. My stepson really doesn’t look well and I think his mother would like to have him safely at home as soon as possible.”

“Stepson?” the woman asked, leaning forward slightly to look into the car. Paul saw John waving  at her in a silly manner with a wink. He tried not to snicker.

“But thank you for your offer.” Paul thanked her, and the woman nodded as she took a few steps back, looking a little crestfallen. Paul closed the window and started the car. He waved at the woman one last time, before driving off. He kept his eyes on the road this time and drove a bit slower than before. They would be home soon. It was only another five minutes.

          Back at home, John and Paul got out of the car carefully and inspected it closely before heading inside with their shopping. The car was mostly fine. There was a large scratch on the front and a small dent from where they had hit the curb and the wheels were soft from the impact of driving onto the curb at such high speed. Paul sighed at the damage, making a few quick calculations in his head for himself on how much it would cost them to repair it.

John had walked inside the house first and before Paul had even entered the hallway, he was rushing out of the kitchen and stumbling up the stairs to his own room. Paul called after him, but John simply ignored him and slammed his bedroom door behind him. The older man sighed and closed the door behind him and moved the last of the things into the kitchen. Looking at the clock, he noticed it wasn’t that late yet, but it was already past lunch time. He thought about whether to talk to John first, or eat, but decided it was best to get the talk over with. Things would only get more embarrassing, if he waited any longer. He put the groceries away and grabbed the clothing he and John had bought to bring with him since he was going upstairs anyway. The record, he left on the kitchen table.

          John sat himself down on the edge of his bed with a groan and got out the panties from his pants and put them beneath his pillow before he took off his shirt to inspect his body. Overall he felt fine. Perhaps still a bit tense and his muscles were burning from the impact of their sudden halt. He had a nasty bruise on his arm and his knee felt sore, too, but apart from that he felt alright. Except, he did not really feel “alright” at all. Quite the contrary, actually. He could hardly believe it himself, but he had called Paul “dad”. The thought made him wince and his body turn cold, as his palms started to sweat and his cheeks warmed up in shame. He was fucked-up, wasn’t he?

He should have listened to Stuart. He should never have started anything with Paul along those lines. It was all just too complicated. Paul was his… his mother’s boyfriend, his sister’s new father almost and he was his secret “lover, for the lack of a better word, but had to be his new father as well. Or had to act like it. He and Paul were closer and had grown even closer since they had gotten together, but Paul was more than just his “lover”. God, John already despised that word. He was meant to act like his stepfather as well. Besides, he soon would be if he and Julia would decide to take the next step, which probably wouldn’t be far from now. Honestly, John was surprised they hadn’t already announced their engagement with the way things were between them.

He and Paul could pretend to their heart’s content that Paul wasn’t his father, but in a strange way he was. Sort of. Or he would be and he had sort of taken on the role, voluntarily or not. He had to, right? They couldn’t keep denying that it would one day be the case that Paul would be his stepfather. Stuart had been right. Of course he had been. The lad was always right.

But still, that didn’t seem right. John had shocked himself when he had called out for Paul as “dad”. He hadn’t meant to and didn’t see Paul as his father in anyway. Paul was like a friend. A… a… John didn’t know what. It was all just too complicated. But Paul as his father, that just didn’t seem right. Not at all. John wanted a father figure in his life. Of course he did. Everyone he knew had one, so why not he? The man who was supposed to be his father, had left him when he was six and was a complete arse. And now, Paul was with his mother and he obviously was a good father figure to Jules, but not to him. Paul was really his friend, partner, lover… Not his father or stepfather. But then why had he cried out for him like that?  Things were just so confusing. He wished he could talk to someone about it. Someone who understood him and whom he could trust. Who wouldn’t declare him insane or stupid, or wouldn’t tell him to simply stop seeing Paul as that was obviously the problem. Someone who wouldn’t condemn him for who he loved and what he was going through. It wasn’t his fault he was feeling this way!

              A knock on the door made John swallow thickly. Paul wanted to talk. Of course he did. Right away, John had seen the shock on Paul’s face when he had realised what he had said. He cursed to himself. Why wasn’t this day going as he had wanted it to go. Why couldn’t they just have stayed at home and had sex all morning or played guitar or messed about or written a song? They could have been enjoying their post-orgasmic bliss right now, rather than this feeling of confliction and embarrassment. He told Paul to come in with a quick “yes”.

“John?” Paul’s voice came from behind the door and John repeated his “yes”. The door opened softly and John didn’t turn to look at the other man as he heard him walk into his room. The door closed again and the room was suddenly filled with a deafening silence. Neither men said anything, both being afraid to break the tension that hung around the room. Finally, it was Paul who broke it.

“You mind if I sit down?” he asked and John merely shrugged. Paul nodded and sat down backwards on John’s desk chair, his legs on either side of the back of the chair. John glanced up at him, before quickly looking back down. Didn’t Paul know how distracting it was when he sat like that?

“Listen…” Paul started as he let out a deep sigh, but John cut him off before he could continue.

“I don’t know why I called you “dad”, okay?” He suddenly exploded. He frowned as he realised what he had said, but instead of keeping quiet after that he continued, looking down at the ground the whole time so he wouldn’t have to see Paul’s reaction. “I was scared, or… or shocked and I was confused and I called you dad, but I didn’t mean to. I don’t see you as my father or anything, but it’s all just so confusing and complicated and honestly I’m having a hard time with it all and I’m trying to just let it go and enjoy what we have as long as we do, but it’s hard and it confuses me.”

“It’s like- you act like you’re a father around Jules and when Julia is around, but when we’re alone you’re just Paul. And then I see you with Julia and then you’re my mum’s boyfriend and I can’t like the same guy as my mum, can I? So you’re more like a father or something, but that doesn’t feel right. I try to keep myself under control and see you more as my mum’s boyfriend when we’re around others and when we’re alone as Paul, but even that doesn’t work, as I still like you when we’re around others and when we’re alone you are still so much older than me that you could be my father and that just does things to me that I don’t understand.”

“And I miss having a father, like I remember it and I want a father again, but that’s not you and I don’t want it to be you, but you sort of are right now and it’s all just one big mess and I know I should have listened to Stuart when he told me I shouldn’t have started this thing with you, but I want this with you, because I really like you. I really do and I don’t want to stop it.” John rambled on and on, occasionally stumbling over his own words and taking short breaks to get some air. Once he finally finished, he looked up at Paul to see him staring at him, his face almost blank. He swallowed thickly as he waited for Paul’s reaction.

But Paul stayed silent for awhile and the tension and nervous made John anxious. He hoped it hadn’t ruined what he had with Paul with his stupid Freudian slip. When Paul did finally speak, it wasn’t what John had thought he would say.

“You like me?” Paul asked and the question made John blush as he realised he had admitted that.  He nodded, but didn’t avert his eyes this time, wanting to know Paul’s reaction. When the older man’s lips curled up in a slight smile, he sighed with relieve and found himself mimicking Paul.

“I do.” He admitted softly and this time a light flush spread over Paul’s cheeks, making him look positively adorable. The older man looked up and their eyes met, making John’s breath hitch. The continued to look at each other for a while, wordlessly talking to each other, until Paul spoke for real.

“I like you to.” He muttered.

“I- I’m sorry about what happened.” John said, pinching his thigh to make himself continue his apology. He wasn’t good at the type of thing and normally he wouldn’t have bothered, but with Paul it was different. With Paul everything was different and perhaps that made things even more complicated and confusing, but perhaps it was worth it. “I didn’t mean to and I don’t think of you as my father. Not like that anyway.”

“John, luv,” Paul said, making John smile at the nickname, which meant they were still good, “I know you don’t. I just… wanted to be sure. I know it is complicated and confusing. I would be lying if I said I’m not struggling too.”

“So, we’re fine?” John asked carefully and when Paul nodded and smiled broadly as he let himself fall onto his knees before Paul. He cupped the older man’s cheek in his hand and brought their lips together for a tentative kiss. Still, the moment Paul’s lips touched his own it was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulder. They were fine and they “liked” each other. What more could he want?

“Oh, but don’t think I’ve forgotten about that guitar, Macca. I still want it.” He said as they pulled away and Paul laughed, before kissing the younger boy himself.

          Julia’s arrival was announced that afternoon by her high pitched exclamations of surprise and shock. John and Paul turned to each other from where they were sitting, cuddled up together on the couch watching telly. John kissed Paul on the lips for one last time, before he moved to the other side of the couch, as far away from Paul as was needed, but still trying to sit closely to him. After their awkward conversation, things had been a bit weird at first, but as time progressed and they talked about it more and more, they had gotten over it. Perhaps they had grown even closer and their connection deeper. The door to the living room swung open and Julia emerged from the hallway with a confused look on a face. Today just was a confusing day for everyone, John thought.

“What happened to the car?” She asked, her voice still oddly high. Paul got up to turn off the telly, before taking Julia by her hand and sitting her down.

“The car is fine, luv. Just a scratch and a dent. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“B-but… what happened? Are you two alright?” She asked, looking over from Paul to her son and back again, reaching for John’s hand, who let her take it.

“We’re fine, Julia. We almost had an accident, but it didn’t happen and we’re okay.” Paul told her slowly, knowing she would have trouble taking in the news with the way she was already slightly panicking.

“Accident?” She asked and Paul nodded as he kneeled before her.

“He almost hit a car, but I managed to turn and we ended up on the curb. Nothing too terrible. John and I are both fine and the car is alright, considering.”

“Oh lord.” She said, and Paul kissed her forehead soothingly.

“We’re all fine, love.” He said and when he shot a look at John, John crawled closer and squeezed his mother’s hand.

“We’re okay, mum. Nothing happened.” He told her and she nodded, before leaning in and placing a large kiss on his cheek, making John chuckle.

“I’m so glad nothing happened to you to.” She said, “But don’t you dare think you’ll get off easy. You’re not getting your allowance for the next week. This whole thing was probably your fault, anyway. Paul is a very capable driver, I know.”  John laughed at that and nodded. It was only fair. It was his fault. Although he did realise he would probably not get that guitar now, with the car needing to get repaired. Or perhaps if he tried Paul again? There had to be some way to persuade him?

          John and Paul didn’t speak anymore of the incident in the car. It had happened, it had been embarrassing for both of them, they admitted they liked each other, and now that was all behind them. But that didn’t mean it had vanished from their minds completely. John was still trying to figure out how he thought of Paul and tried to figure out what he thought was appealing to calling Paul “dad”. Not normally, but the name had ran through his head at the most inappropriate times. Not that he told Paul that.

Paul, however, thought about it a bit more seriously, taking what John had admitted to very dearly and wanting to help the younger man as much as possible. He tried to be less “Fatherly” when he and John were alone and when they were around others, he tried not to get to loving towards Paul to keep that separate. Luckily, because it was a holiday, they were alone a lot, meaning they had little else on their minds than each other’s bodies, music or other topics about which they philosophised. 

Apart from that he tried to keep the idea of John calling his “dad” as far away from his mind as possible, except that it did slip into his subconscious at time, when he was dreaming or fantasizing. Still, he tried not to focus on it too much. Besides, he was busy enough as it was with John’s birthday coming up, although he could scratch John’s present off his to-do list. Julia had agreed to getting him the guitar! Luckily, John had not asked about the other guitar anymore, which was a relief.

          John stamped out his cigarette bud as he waited for Cynthia to finally get out of her house. He had been standing at her front door for what seemed like ages and he had been on the verge of simply giving up and walking away to pester Stuart instead, when the front door opened and Cynthia finally walked out. Jules was back home with Paul, probably playing games with him or whatever, which was why John hadn’t felt bad when Cynthia had asked him to come over to spend some time together. It wasn’t like he was going to get some alone time with Paul anyway, and after having spent the last few days solely with Paul and sometimes with Jules, he could use a day from home. He wasn’t used to it.

“Finally, Miss Powell. I thought you’d never come!” John exclaimed over dramatically as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. She began to struggle besides him, but John wouldn’t let her go and merely held her a little tighter.

“I always come, John. You know me. Now, let me go or I’ll stamp your toe.” Cynthia threatened and immediately she was realised.

“As if you really would.” He told her with a self-satisfied smirk, but Cynthia only rolled her eyes at that. John had still released her, so she knew he actually knew she would. She didn’t make empty threats, especially not towards a boy like John. He’d deserve it anyway.

“Shall we go? The bus will leave in five minutes and we still have to get there?” She asked, not bothering to bring that particular thing  under John’s attention. John checked his watch and nodded as he took her hand in his hand started to drag her along with her. Cynthia giggling lightly at that and this time didn’t object to John’s touching. It was clear she was enjoying it.

“Do you have any chocolate?” John asked, when they were about half way. Cynthia chuckled and shook her head in disapproval.

“You’ll get a piece once we’re there. You almost ate my entire bar the last time we hung out together, so don’t you there think you can do that again” She said and John rolled his eyes at that. He had not almost eaten her bar. They had shared it. Or had he secretly nicked it? John couldn’t remember very well, but it did not matter. Right now, they just needed to get on the bus. 

They were right on time and managed to get on, just as the door closed behind them. 

* * *

 

John didn’t say anything, as they sat on the bus together. Cynthia had taken the seat by the window and was staring out of it with a blank expression on her face, as if she wasn’t really there with him at all. John rarely saw her like that. Normally, she would always show some emotion on her face. She would be smiling at him, glaring at him, grinning mischievously or look angry or cold or disappointed, or embarrassed or even turned-on. Or just plainly happy or excited. But not now and it was strange for John to see her like that. He could not stop shooting glances in her direction and he was curious to know what was wrong. Still, he couldn’t find the words to. His fingers were twitching on his thighs, and he glanced at Cynthia’s wondering if he should take them in his. But before he can, his mouth had started moving, ruining every chance he had to ask Cynthia what was occupying her mind.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten too, eh?” Cynthia look up at him with confusement in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly, asking what John was trying to get on about.

“Oh come on, Cyn! It’s me 18th birthday, you know!”  John exclaimed, trying to look honestly offended. He mentally sighed when he saw a light amused smile appear on his friend’s face. “I can’t believe you forgot! And you call yourself a good friend?” John continued, and Cynthia chuckled as she shook her head in disapproval.

“I said no such thing, John, and you know it!” She told him sternly, only half playing along. Still it was enough for John to feel a bit more comfortable around her. At least it didn’t seem too serious, because he could still make her laugh. Then again, when could he not make anyone laugh their heads off?

“You’ve hurt me, Miss Powell. I thought you cared for me, but now I see you have only used me for your own benefit. What was it then? My astounding good looks? My ingenious way of thinking? My sense of style? Or was it just for the money?”

“No, John. You use me for the money. You don’t have any money, my dear.”

“Ah, that’s alright then. But don’t you try to deny that you aren’t in it for my handsome face. We all know the truth, Miss Powell. Even that old slag over there.” John continued, nodding with his head in the direction of some older woman sitting only a few feet away from them. Cynthia’s eyes went wide in shock and she hit John playfully on his arm and she scolded him.

“John! Don’t say that. She might hear you! Now, let’s get off before we ride too far. Come on, move it.” She chided, pushing at John’s heavy body with her small hands. Still, she was rather strong and John had really no choice but to do as she said. He grinned at her and got up from his seat to move over to the exist. Cynthia followed him swiftly, keeping close to him and burying her face in his arm in shame.

“I bet she heard us.” She whispered to John with a giggle.

“Oh don’t worry. The old lady must have been as deaf as we are blind.” and with that the bus stopped and the two teenagers got out quickly, bursting out in a giggles as soon as they were safely and alone at the cemetery.

          As the two walked among the graves, searching for a nice and peaceful spot to sit down, John asked himself if perhaps him being at a graveyard had a symbolic meaning. Life, after all, wasn’t that different from yet another story and if stories had symbols in them, why not life? Maybe it was symbolic that Cynthia would walk into a spider’s web and cry out in fright as she tried to get the sticky stuff off her as quickly as possibly. Maybe she was actually caught up in something? Something of which she couldn’t get out of? John grimaced at the thought, not liking that idea at all, and pushed it away from him as he hurried over to Cynthia to help her.

“Damn spiders.” Cynthia growled as she plucked some of the last bits out of her hair as John pushed the creases out of her skirt, laughing at his friend’s discomfort and annoyance.

“There, there, Miss Powell. No cursing, remember. You have to behave as a properly lady you if want to get married still.”

“John, I’m already engaged remember? And he is, in fact, not here, so I don’t care.”

“Oh, spunky.” John told her as he wagged his finger before her face. She laughed and grabbed his finger tightly, pushing it out of her face.

“You should know.” She mumbled. As soon as the words left her mouth, she blushed heavily. “That’s not what I meant.” She said quickly, but John still grinned at her.

“Either way, I do know.” He reminded her and she blushed even more, before pulling away and walking further. John followed her closely, watching where she stepped so he wouldn’t fall and hurt himself. Next time he should bring his glasses along. Just for this part.

          John and Cynthia sat down against the back of two gravestones, their legs stretched out in front of them and looking up at the sky where the sun tried to break through the clouds, but wasn’t strong enough. Cynthia was nibbling on a piece of chocolate, and after a while she handed it to John to share. John took a few bites, before handing it back. He could see she wasn’t herself yet and didn’t want to give her any reason to get angry with him. He pondered about what to say as he suckled on the melting chocolate on his tongue. He wanted to be a good friend and ask her about what was clearly bothering her, but that has never been his thing. He always stayed away until people started acting normal again, but he couldn’t really do that with Cynthia. She wasn’t just any girl to him.

Luckily, John didn’t have to say anything. The girl stretched herself out on the grass and rolled onto her side to look at John as she handed him the chocolate again. John took it with a thankful smile.

“John?” She started, her voice sounding serious. John looked at her and hummed in order to tell her to continue. She swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, before continuing. She drew circles with her fingertips on the stone as she spoke.

“Do you think we would have ended up together if you hadn’t been… you know… not into ladies?” She asked softly, her voice barely a whisper. They had to be careful. John preferred not to talk about his preference, as he liked to call it, outside his own bedroom, but it was a Friday morning and no one was around. As long as they kept their voices down, he figured they would be okay.

“Dunno.” He said with a slight shrug, “I suppose so. Seems logically, don’t you think?”

“I guess. Do you…? Do you think about it sometimes? Us? You and me? What happened?”

“I know better than to lie to you, Cyn. You know I do. Often. My favourite wanking material, that is.”

“John, seriously now! Besides, I doubt I’d do better than a certain step dad.” She said with a smirk and John tried not to let it get to him. She was only joking. She couldn’t know. Could she?

“Why do you ask?” John asked, shifting in his seat and looking away, when he saw Cynthia noticed.

“I just… I don’t think I want to marry Barry.”

There. Finally it was out and Cynthia smiled shyly at her friend as she waited for an reaction. John could understand now why Cyn had seemed so out of it, today. She and Barry had been engaged for a long time now. He was a good match. Good family, a bit of money, alright job. And it was clear that he cared for her. He’d make a great match. Anyone would say she was crazy to think otherwise.

“You don’t want to marry Barry?” John asked, just to be sure. When Cynthia nodded and started chewing her lip, he asked: “Why?” Cynthia sighed and shrugged, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He’s nice, you know. I’d be mad not to like him, but… He has already cheated on me once and I’m not sure if I trust him anymore and… We have been talking about what will happen when we get married. It’s simply, really. We’ll move in together, he will work, I will stay at home, we will get a cat and two beautiful children. I can do some artsy things at home and we’ll live happily ever after.”

“But?” John asked, sensing his friend wasn’t too happy with that arrangement.

“But, I wish I didn’t have to do that. It’s not like I don’t want a happy family and life in a nice house, and I most certainly do not want to have a large carreer, but… I’d still like to work? Not even anything much, but I’d like to teach or something. To keep me busy. I don’t want to spend me life sitting at home waiting until my children get back from school and my husband to return from work. I want to do something.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I can’t, of course! Barry doesn’t want me to work! He says I’ll be busy enough with the house and the kids, and that I’ll be able to do what I like in my spare time at home! But that’s not what I want.”

“He doesn’t want you to work?” John asked, sounding honestly surprised. It wasn’t such an odd thing, really, but still. If Cynthia wanted to teach, why not? There was no harm in that, was there? Especially not in the beginning. “What does your mother say?”

“She says it is fine if I want to work for a few hours in the week, but that Barry should agree to it. She would love me to, actually. Because then I’ll be able to show off what I’ve learned. I’m a clever girl, I know that. I would do well as a teacher.”

“Of course you would! I’d choose you over any of the other teacher anytime!” John told her with a cheeky grin and Cynthia punched his shoulder playfully.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“It is what I aim to be.” John replied gallantly, making a fake bow to her. Cynthia chuckled again, but soon her voice grew sadder and sadder.

“You know what I think?” John asked. Cynthia shook her head. “Barry is an idiot for not letting you work. I think it would be best if you call off the wedding and marry me instead.” He told her determinedly and Cynthia stared at him for a while, before bursting out in laughter. John soon joined her and the two of them continued to laugh together and make stupid jokes, until John grabbed Cynthia by her wrist and pulled her against him. Cynthia’s laughter died down and she hummed contently as she let John wrap his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest.

“I would, you know.” John said to her in a gentle voice after a few minutes of silence, “Marry you, that is.” Cynthia smiled as she looked up at him and nodded.

“Thank you, John.” She replied.

“Just tell me and it will happen. No questions asked. Even if you killed Barry, I wouldn’t care.” John continued and when Cynthia didn’t say anything he said, “You do know I love you, don’t you?”

“I know.”

          “So you don’t want me to beat him up until he changes his mind?” John asked as they walked back to the bus. It was already getting late and John really wanted to show Cynthia the guitar he wanted before they went home for dinner.

“No. I’ll manage. But I appreciate the offer.” She said, locking her arm with John’s.

“Okay… if you’re certain.” John muttered and Cynthia nodded.

“Yeah. But thank you. For listening. I feel a lot better. I will talk to Barry about it some more and will try to change his mind.”

“You know where to find me if he doesn’t.” John said with a toothy smile. He was surprised at how quickly his day had gone by. He and Cynthia had spend hours in the cemetery, simply talking and making stupid jokes as they ate sandwiches which John had brought with him in the pockets of his coat. It was now already past four o’clock and John had promised he’d be back with Cynthia for dinner at half past five to celebrate his birthday. He hoped he would get good presents. And cake. He needed that cake! And he hoped he could still spend some time alone with Paul. It was his birthday! They had to.

When they reached the stop, the bus was already waiting. They hurried over, John holding on to Cynthia’s hand to help her run on the heels she was wearing. He didn’t want her to fall and hurt herself after all. They were just in time and quickly hopped on.

          John’s heart already felt lighter as they walked into the shop. He always felt at home in music shops. It was a place where he felt like he truly belonged. Not at his Aunt’s, or at Julia’s, or anywhere, but here, surrounded by albums from his favourite artists, and all kinds of guitars hanging down from the wall and large pianos with ivory keys, just begging you to press. Paul should teach him how to play piano as well, John thought as he let his fingers slide across a few.

They walked further into the show, all the way to the back where the guitars still hung neatly in a row. John smiled when he saw the one he had asked Paul to get him. It was still hanging there. He hoped he would get it after his birthday, then. He carefully took it off the wall and sat down on a stool nearby to play a song.

“Is that the one you wanted?” Cynthia asked, taking in the guitar with care. John nodded and smiled as he strummed, marveling at how much better it sounded than his own. He really needed to have this one.

“Yeah… Paul and me didn’t speak about it again, but I hope he can persuade me mum to get it for me. Then I won’t have to be afraid I’ll be left with two guitars at the end of a gig.” John joked and Cynthia chuckled.

“If you get it, you could write me a song.” She suggested. John smiled up at her and nodded.

“If we’ll get married I might.” He joked. He looked back at the guitar and sighed. “Come one. Let’s go home, yeah. I’m fucking starving.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Johnny.”

          “There isn’t anything wrong between you and Stuart is there?” Cynthia asked suddenly as they sat on the bus for the third time that evening. John frowned at her question and looked down at where her head was resting on his shoulder.

“Why would you ask?” He asked, “There’s nothing wrong between us.”

“I just thought I’d ask, you know. Since you two haven’t spoken in a while. Actually, you haven’t spoken at all since your last gig. I actually got a call from him the other day asking if you were sick or something.”

“The git misses me, does he?” John asked with a smug grin, but Cynthia didn’t give in to that and merely continued.

“I just thought that was weird.” She concluded and John bit his lip as he thought about how to answer that without giving away too much. He knew he had been a crappy friend. First they had been arguing and then he simply disappears on him and the others to get off with Paul, after which he doesn’t speak to him for days. He hadn’t even called him. The thought nagged at him.

“I should call him up, ask him how he’s doing. I don’t even know why I haven’t seen him in so long. I guess he just escaped my mind for awhile. But really, we’re not fighting or anything. At least, not that I know.” John told Cynthia as he watched the houses pass by in the window. They were getting near to their stop, finally. John couldn’t wait to get off the bus and get home.

“I think you should. Or else my mother will go mental with the amount of times he has been calling me. He’s really clingy, though, isn’t he?” Cynthia asked and John merely nodded in agreement.

“Come on. Here’s our stop.”

          John frowned as he looked up at his house. He shot Cynthia a questioning look, but she merely shrugged. There didn’t seem to be any lights on in the house, even though it was already rather dark out and John knew it must be rather dark inside without the lights on. Were they even at home? They had to be right?

“You better not have thrown me a surprise party, Cyn.” John joked, but he didn’t miss the doubtful smile that appeared on her face. He turned back to the house and got his keys out of his pockets. Perhaps they were doing some last shopping or something? Or maybe they were at Mimi’s? For whatever reason… John unlocked the door and turned the knob to push it open.

As he had expected, it was very dark inside the small house. John had to blink a few times before his eyes got used the the lighting. He searched around for the light switch and when he finally found it, the light came pouring back in. He stepped aside to let Cynthia in as well, who closed the door behind her.

“Julia? Mum? Paul? Anyone home?” John shouted as he took off his coat and shoes. No answer came. He shared another curious look with Cynthia, but again she merely shrugged. He sighed and hung up both their coats, before stumbling over to the door to the living room which was closed for some reason.

“Paul? Are you in here?” He shouted again as he pulled the door open. Again it was completely dark in the living room and John could hardly see anything.

“Are they not here?” Cynthia asked, sounding puzzled. John shook his head.

“Apparently. I haven’t  a clue what else they have be doing on a day as important as my birthday. Mum should be home too.” He answered her as he felt around for the light switch again. When he finally managed to flick on the lights, he gave a loud cry of surprise and grabbed his heart as he jumped three feet in the air.

“Jesus, Fucking, Christ!” John exclaimed loudly as he looked around the living room that was now filled with he didn’t know how many people.

“Happy Birthday, John!” The all shouted and John looked around the room for a while longer, before turning to a very happily grinning Cynthia.

“You knew!” he accused her and Cynthia only had to smile to let him know that she had. Soon, his shocked expression was exchanged for a very happy grin as Rock and Roll music started playing and his mother and little sister came over to him for a hug. He hugged them back with a happy laugh.

“Happy birthday, my dear son.” Julia told him as he pressed a firm, wet kiss on his cheek. John grimaced at the effection, catching the sight of his bandmates grinning at him with amused looks, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Thanks mum.” He said and had to repeat himself a bit louder to make himself audible over the music.

“Cynthia didn’t give anything away, did she?” Julia asked as she pulled away from her son. John nodded and glanced at Cynthia who was standing rather smugly in the doorway. Soon she was joined by some other girls John recognized from college.

“No, she didn’t. How-? When-?” John started to ask, but before he could get any answers, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He turned and smiled as he looked straight into Paul’s sparkling eyes.

“Happy birthday, John. I hope you don’t mind that we’ve invited a couple of your friends for the great occasion?” He asked and John shook his head.

“No! No, not at all!” He said quickly and Paul smiled brightly at him.

“Good. Now, before you started filling yourself up with cake, let’s get your present, okay?”

“But-” John started, but Paul quickly cut him off and placed a finger on John’s lips. John swallowed thickly at the touch and memories of feeling Paul against those lips and his fingers in different places started to take over his brain.

“It will be worth it.” Paul promised and John nodded meekly, before following John towards the cough. He let himself be sat down and waited patiently for his present. When Paul returned with the present he already knew what it was.

“You didn’t?” He asked in disbelief. Paul merely grinned at him and nodded as he handed John the large, guitar-shaped present. John took it eagerly from him and placed it in his lap as he started to rip the paper from it. Within a minute, all the paper lay scattered across the floor and John was staring, wide eyed and open mouthed at the guitar in his hand.

“Oh wow… But… Isn’t this fucking expensive?” John asked and Paul merely shrugged.

“You only turn eighteen once, don’t you?” He asked and John nodded heavily as he inspected the guitar on all sides. It wasn’t the one he had actually wanted. It was much better! He had never even dreamed of getting such a guitar for his birthday and he would never have had the guts to ask. Which begged the question…

“How did you know?” John asked as he placed the guitar in his lap and started to tune it. Paul smiled as he looked down at him, but didn’t say anything. Soon they were joined by Julia and Jules, who brought the two of them, two large pieces of cake.

“Do you like it, John?” Julia asked and immediately John jumped up and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you, mum!” He said as he kissed her cheek, “Thank you so much. I love you.”

“I love you, too, dear. Now, eat your cake. I have stood in the kitchen for almost two hours to make the damn thing, so you better eat it!” She said as she kissed his cheek once more and shoved the cake in his hands. John nodded and continued to grin happily as he sat down next to his guitar and continued to stare at it as he ate his cake. He would give Paul a proper thank you soon. He had to be the best person in the world to have known he had been longing after this particular guitar. It was just perfect.


	12. Chapter 12

John couldn’t take his eyes off his new guitar as he shoved pieces of cake into his mouth. It was a chocolate cake, John’s favourite, and his mother had truly outdone herself. It was still a little sticky, but airy at the same time. But he couldn’t wait until he could finally play his new guitar. He still hadn’t figured out how Paul had known he had wanted this one. He hadn’t even mentioned or touched it. He hadn’t dared to because of the price. John felt like he was the luckiest boy on earth. He swallowed a piece of his cake and reached out to caress the strings of the guitar. They felt rough beneath his fingertips. Rougher than his old guitar, but of course the strings were still new. Oh, how good this guitar would sound.

When John felt the couch dip next to him, he tore his eyes away from his new guitar and smiled when he saw Ringo sitting next to him and Stuart on the coffee table in front of him. He wanted to show them the guitar he had gotten, but before he could Ringo had shoved a bottle of beer in his face.

“Here. Your first legal beer as an adult!” Ringo said with a large grin and John took it with a thankful nod. He put the neck of the bottle against his lips and tipped it back, drinking the first couple of gulps.

“Welcome to the club, mate!” Stuart said with a laugh and playfully pushed John’s shoulder, making him choke on his beer. He quickly stopped drinking and frantically started coughing to get the burning beer out of his lungs. Once he had regained the ability to breath properly again, he turned to Stuart to glare at him. The older man, however, didn’t seem to care.

“Here!” He said, offering John a package wrapped in colourful wrapping paper, “Happy Birthday, you arse.” John took it from him and put down his beer and cake for a while to open it. It was about the size and form of a book. Curious to know which one Stuart had gotten him, he tore the paper off as quickly as possible. When he realised it wasn’t a book, but a new notebook that Stuart had given him, he smiled. This was even better than a book. It was a really nice one, too. Bound in light brown leather with “notebook” written on it in light blue letters. It was thick and the paper felt strong and smooth to the touch.

“Thank, Stu. My arse will be very happy with this!” John joked as he skimmed through the notebook, touching almost all the pages and wondering to himself what he’d use it for.

“Funny, John. But really, I thought you’d might like a notebook to write all your songs in. I figured, since your first song went so well, you might want to write some more.” Stuart explained as he took John’s beer and took a sip himself, before handing it back to John, who was smiling at him, not even caring that Stuart had just stolen his drink.

“Thanks, mate!” He repeated and Stuart shrugged in response, but John could see he was smirking, being glad that John liked his present. John closed the notebook and put it down on the table. He had to admit, it was perfect for writing songs in and it would be nice to have them all together in one notebook. When John turned to look at Ringo, he saw the man’s cheeks were coloured a light pink.

“I- er… I didn’t know what to get you so… here.” He stammered, holding out a piece of rolled up paper and a square package. John took them both and decided to roll out the paper first. He grinned when he saw it was a poster of Elvis. It was probably a picture from him while he was recording, because he was playing his guitar as he sang into a microphone in a white room. In the upper right hand corner stood his name. He looked really good in it, too. John decided he was going to put it on up his wall before he went to bed, so he could look at it while he was falling asleep.

Next, he opened the square package and was pleased to see it was a set of coloured pencils. He really needed some new ones, as all his old ones were broken or too small or the colours weren’t that great anymore. He thanked Ringo, who seemed to cheer up a little now he saw John was actually really happy with his presents.

When John was about to reach for his beer and cake again, he was interrupted for the third time in not even five minutes. This time, however, it was not someone who wanted to give him a present. No, this time it was Pete Shotton, who was standing at the other end of the room with their instruments.

“John! How about you show everyone how great that new guitar of yours is, eh? Come on!” Pete shouted at him. Everyone looked up and turned to John was expectant looks on their faces and John just couldn’t refuse. Besides, his cake would still be there when he’d be done and he really want to give the guitar a try. He gave Pete and the rest of the band the thumbs up and grabbed his guitar as Ringo hurried to his own little drum kit, which he had brought with him. John placed the guitar in his lap, tuned it a little better and he thought about what they could play. Stuart, however, had already thought of something for him.

“How about a little Johnny B Goode, Johnny? Seems fitting, don’t you think?” He asked, and John smirked at him before nodding.

“Alright. Heard that lads? Johnny B Goode for lil’ Stu here!” John repeated and he got a few half-drunken cheers from the crowd that was now waiting in anticipation for the music. Somebody had turned off the record player, so John counted down and they started playing.

John felt his body move along to the music as they played the song. He was surprised at how good the song sounded now with his new guitar. He could barely wait until their next gig. Or even a practice session. As long as he could try out the new sound with as many songs he knew. Everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves as well, singing and dancing along to the song, and when they finished it, they requested another one, after which they requested yet another and so it went on until John could feel blisters form on his fingertips. Still, he didn’t want to stop yet, so they did yet another song. But after that, his throat was dry and he needed a break. He put down his guitar and when the guests groaned he laughed.

“If you want to hear more, you all should just go buy yourselves a ticket for one of our damn gigs!” He shouted at them and people laughed, but still John could hear they were disappointed. He leaned with a hand on Stuart’s shoulder as he got to his feet.

“Sorry mate. I need to go get some fresh air. I’ll be back, yeah?” He said and Stuart nodded. John smiled and made a detour into the kitchen to grab himself a new bottle of beer (the one he had gotten from Ringo had gone warm and there was no way he was going to drink that shit), before opening the back door and escaping into the garden.

          It was a cold evening, but John didn’t mind. It had been incredibly warm in the living room with all the guests and the dancing, so the fresh cold air came as a welcoming sensation. It was almost eerily quiet outside. Especially in contrast to the living room. All he could hear was the damped sounds coming from the house (someone had put the record player back on) and some birds chirping. It was an incredibly clear evening. There was not a cloud in the sky and John could easily see all the twinkling stars in the sky. He cleared his throat and took a sip from his drink, which soothed his throat almost immediately. God, that was good.

He stumbled over to a pair of deckchairs at the back of the garden. Only then did he see there was someone else in the garden. A dark figure was sitting on one of the chairs and was looking up at the night sky as he sucked on a cigarette. John smiled as he saw who it was. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere. He quickened his pace and sat down next to the other man without a word. There was no need for words. He sighed, put down his bottle in the grass and leaned back on his hands to look up at the sky as well, curious to figure out what Paul was seeing in all those pretty lights.

After a minute or so, Paul broke the silence.

“So? How do you like your party?” He asked without turning to look at him. John shrugged and kept his eyes on the stars as well.

“It’s pretty good,” he answered, “Thanks again for the guitar, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Was that why you wouldn’t buy me the other one? Because you wanted to give me this one for my birthday?”

“I have to say, you were making it rather difficult.” Paul answered with a laugh as he looked down at the grass. John chuckled as well and turned his head to look at Paul. Now that he was sitting closer he could see him a little better- even if he was still not much more than a blur as John wasn’t wearing his glasses. Still, John could see he was still smiling, but didn’t seem to want to look at him. Not even when John said his name, did he turn his head.

“Hmm?” was the only response he got. John swiftly looked at the window of the living room and when he didn’t see anybody looking their way, he moved quickly, giving Paul a sweet peck on his cheek.

“Thank you.” He whispered as his lips left Paul’s slightly scruffy cheek. This time, Paul did turn to look at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but gentle and kind as well. John opened his mouth to say something else, but all words have seemed to have left him in that moment.

“You’re welcome, John. You deserve it.” Paul told him, his voice as soft as his eyes and John tried hard not to blush. He seemed to have failed though, because Paul snickered at him anyway.

“Paul! Is that you?” A voice suddenly shouted at them. Both men looked into the direction and sighed in disappointment when they saw it was Julia.

“I’m here!” Paul shouted back and John looked down at the ground, watching the grass sway lightly in the wind. Why couldn’t they just be left alone for a while without anyone bothering them?

“Could you help me out, please? Someone spilled wine all over the carpet!” Julia shouted and Paul groaned, but he stood up anyway.

“Coming, luv!” He shouted back and John could only just see Julia go back inside from the corner of his eye. He nearly jumped in fright when he felt Paul’s hand on his cheek, asking him wordlessly to look up at him. John did and gave Paul a tentative smile.

“I should go back inside. You should, too. Go enjoy yourself.” Paul told him and John nodded. For a moment he thought Paul would lean in and kiss him, but he seemed to change his mind about halfway. He shook his head and walked away without another word, leaving John behind, crestfallen. The younger man sighed and laid down onto the chair on his back, looking up at the sky for a little while longer until it got too cold.

          After John came back inside, he pushed Paul away from his mind for awhile and decided to simply take his chance and have some fun that evening. It wasn’t like he and Paul would be able to get some time alone with the party going on anyway, so why wait like some pathetic loner if he could enjoy himself?

He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and joined Stuart and Ringo who were talking to Cynthia, Maureen and some other girls. It was clear Stuart was trying to push his luck with one of them. He was desperately trying to flirt with a hot blonde, but she didn’t seem interested and only smiled when she saw John coming in their direction. Right away she pulled herself free from Stuart’s arm and offered John to help him with the bottles. John let her take some from him with an understanding smile. The girl pretended she didn’t know what he meant, but John knew she was relieved when he came to stand next to her, between her and Stuart. He ignored the glare he received from his friend, who had apparently made himself believe she had been into him.  

He spend most of the evening with them, simply talking and joking and drinking. He wasn’t certain if Paul had planned something after the party for just the two of them so he switched over to coke and water every once in awhile to keep himself from getting drunk. No one seemed to either mind or notice and just continued to drink themselves, for which John was glad. He’d rather not explain why he was holding back on the booze on his eighteenth birthday party.

After about an hour and a half, Cynthia seemed to remember she had a birthday present for him as well and handed it to him with a slightly apologetic smile. John didn’t care. He knew there were still some other people who had presents for him, but most of them his mother had gathered and put on the coffee table for him. She always did that. John opened the small package quickly and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek as a thank you when he pulled out a guitar strap.

“For your new guitar.” She explained and John looked at her bewildered. Cynthia grinned when she noticed his confusion. “I heard your mum and Paul talk about it when they wanted to ask me if I wanted to keep you busy while they would set all this up. Luckily, I hadn’t bought you a gift yet.”

“Thanks Cyn! The present almost makes me forget how traitorous you are.”

“Oh don’t whine like a child, John. You’re supposed to be an adult.” She replied with a wink and John laughed.

“Me? Never, Cyn. You know that.”

          The remaining part of the evening went by surprisingly quickly. Unlike his usual birthday parties, he did not get bored after about an hour or two, but continued to talk and laugh and joke around with everyone as he smoked. He and the band even played three more songs at the end of the party, until a large part of the band announced they had to be going. John continued playing a while longer and Ringo provided a back-beat. Eventually, even Paul joined in on the piano, which made Julia laugh and join in too. Normally, John would have found it embarrassing, but not this evening. This evening was simply great.

They sang songs as people said their goodbyes and offered each other rides home or asked if they wanted to go out somewhere else before going home. In the end, only Stuart, Ringo and Cynthia were left and they all stopped playing. Julia put on another album as the teenagers sat down on the couch. John let his head rest on Cynthia’s shoulder and yawned.

“Tired, Lennon?” Stuart teased, but John merely made a rude gesture at him, not bothering speaking. Cynthia chuckled and let a hand run through his hair.

“I think it is time for us to go and let Johnny here sleep for a bit.” She said with a sigh, and Ringo nodded in agreement.

“I agree. It’s a tiring thing, turning eighteen. No wonder the boy is half asleep as it is.” He said. Julia and Paul came by to pick up a couple of glasses and bottles and John didn’t miss the way Paul’s eyes rested on him for a bit. John raised his eyebrow and when Paul nodded with his head into the direction of the stairs, he knew what he meant. He blinked once to let him know he understood. When he looked at his friends, he was relieved none of them had noticed anything.

“Want me to give you a ride home, Cynthia?” Paul asked and Cynthia nodded as she let out a yawn as well.

“Thank you, Mr McCartney. Anything is better than having to trust Stuart not to ride us into a ditch or something.” She said. Paul nodded and looked at the two lads.

“Anyone else want a ride?” He asked and Ringo nodded thankfully.

“Oh please. I’d rather not take the bus now. Far too cold. And too many crazy people.” He said.

“Not for me, no. I don’t trust my bike here with John.” Stuart joked and John nudged him in the side with his elbow.

“Piss off, Stu. This is your third bike this year and I haven’t even touched any of them, so I think we know who the real bike-killer is here, luv.” He shot back at him, making everyone chuckle. Paul told Cynthia and Ringo to get ready, as he went to grab his coat and car keys. He kissed Julia goodbye, before disappearing out of the door with Cynthia and Ringo. John and Stuart finished their drinks, before Stuart got up to leave as well, leaving John alone with his mother. He asked if he had to help with anything, but his mother shook her head and ushered him upstairs instead. John went without a single complaint, taking his guitar, poster and some tape with him.

          John tried to stay awake as he lay in bed, staring at his Elvis poster, which hung slightly askew, but he didn’t care. He knew Paul would come to his room when he had would come back. He had already heard Julia stumble up the stairs, so he figured she had left the dishes for tomorrow. Paul, however, still wasn’t back and John felt his eyelids get heavy. He closed them just for a second or two.

However, when he opened them again, he saw a dark figure sitting on his bed. The sight didn’t even scare him any more. He blinked a few times sheepishly and rubbed his eyes, before sitting up in his bed. Right away, his eyes met Paul’s, who was looking at him with an odd expression. He was biting his lip nervously, but had a determined frown on his forehead.

“Hi…” John whispered, having no idea if his mother was still awake, nor what time it was. A light, but tentative smile appeared on Paul’s face.

“Hi…” he replied and John chuckled at his nervousness. He sat up a bit more and reached for Paul, cupping his cheek in one hand as he laid the other on his shoulder. He gave Paul a chance to pull away in case he had planned something else, but when Paul didn’t do anything and merely stared at him, he closed the distance and pressed his lips against Paul’s. 

Paul’s lips were trembling as they moved slowly against his and John couldn’t help but snicker at his nervousness. He pulled Paul a little closer and cocked his head to the side to deepen the kiss. He let his tongue slide along Paul’s lips and when the older man opened up for him, he took control immediately. He licked into Paul’s mouth, tasting him, and curled his tongue around Paul’s coaxing him to go on, giving Paul no chance to do anything else but follow his movements. Paul moaned appreciatively at the dominance and, feeling encouraged, John began to turn them around and press Paul into his bed. When Paul was lying down, he broke the kiss.

“John-” Paul started, but John cut him off, moving his fingers to the buttons of Paul’s shirt. Swiftly, he managed to undo them and expose Paul’s naked chest.

“Shh…” He whispered, “Unless you have something extremely urgent to say, I want you to shut up and let me, okay?” Paul frowned at that and looked deeply into John’s eyes for a moment, before he nodded.

“Okay…” He agreed and John smiled down at him, before kissing him again, messily and feverishly.

“I want to thank you for your wonderful gift.” He muttered against Paul’s lips as he suckled lightly at his tongue. Paul moaned in understanding and a happy grin appeared on his face.

“Go ahead.” He said, grabbing John by his hips and pulling him on top of him, so John was straddling his hips. John giggled softly against Paul’s lips as he continued to kiss him. His fingers moved down Paul’s chest, caressing the soft skin and rubbing gently at the older man’s nipples. Paul’s fingers moved into his hair, playing and tugging at it gently as he moaned encouragingly and thrusted up his hips to let John know how far done he already was. John shuddered as he felt Paul’s erection poking him through the material of his slacks and smirked to himself as he remembered what he was about to do. They had never done this before, but John had done it to others who had told him he was good. He hoped Paul would think so too.

He pulled away from Paul with a tug on the man’s bottom lip and moved his head down Paul’s throat. He suckled lightly at the skin, being careful not to leave a mark, and moved further and further down, over the man’s throat, his collarbone, his shoulders, his chest, his nipples, his belly, his hips and finally his nose bumped against Paul’s belt buckle.

“John?” Paul moaned, as John licked into his belly button and started to caress his thighs, moving his hands further up until they reached his belt as well.

“Shh… You have to be quiet.” John whispered to Paul, looking up at him through his eyelashes and grinning as he noticed how wide Paul’s eyes were as the older man stared down at him. He winked and started to get to work. He dipped his head down again and licked into Paul’s belly button, getting him to groan and twist slightly on the bed in pleasure as his fingers worked on getting his trousers undone. He worked quickly and eagerly pushed them down once he could and moved his hand to Paul’s erection. He looked up at Paul and caught his eye as he let his hand slip inside the older man’s underwear and pulled out his half-hard cock.

“Fuck… John.” Paul groaned softly, moving his hands into John’s hair to play with as he parted his legs a little more to give John more room. John smirked up at him and he curled his fingers tightly around the shaft and gave him a few pulls. Another groan escaped Paul’s throat and when John let his thumb sweep over the head, his eyes fluttered close. John took advantage of the situation by moving his head down quickly and wrapping his lips around the head, engulfing it in a wet hotness that made Paul whine. He had to bite down his lips to keep himself from crying out.

“Oh dear lord… That’s… oh god, John, don’t stop.” Paul whispered as John set to work, swirling his tongue around the head as he let him slide deeper and deeper into his mouth, until the tip hit the back of his throat. Paul cursed and John smiled around the cock in his mouth as he suckled lightly. Paul’s fingers tightened in his hair and pulled him more onto his cock, asking for more, which John was more than happy to give. He closed his eyes and hollowed out his cheeks, before starting to bob up and down in a fast, but steady rhythm. He listened closely for all the little, quiet sounds Paul was making, and god he wished they had been all alone in the house so he could hear Paul at full volume. The sounds the man was making right now were plainly sinful, and John could only imagine how good they would be when Paul would simply let himself go.

“Oh… that’s good.” Paul encouraged, opening his legs even wider, as John moved a hand down to play with his balls as he sucked him off nicely. It felt great having Paul’s cock in his mouth. Better than he had expected and he couldn’t wait to feel it spasm in his mouth and shoot warm cum down his throat. He wasn’t that large, but that didn’t matter. He still felt heavy on his tongue and the little hips movements that Paul was making was better than anything John had ever felt. His own cock was throbbing in his underwear. He removed his hand from Paul’s balls and thrusted it into his own underwear to play with himself. He moaned around Paul’s dick as some tension left his body.

“Hmm… John. John, luv. Y-you have to…” Paul tried to speak, but his voice was tight and he could hardly breath. John opened his eyes again and looked up at Paul, who was biting his lip hard, obviously trying to hold himself back. John pulled off with a plop.

“Just let go, Paul. I’ll swallow it all.” He whispered hotly and Paul groaned wantonly as John took him back into his mouth, but nevertheless pulled him off him by his hair.

“No… You don’t understand. I- I want…” Paul started and John frowned.

“What?” He asked. His hand on his own cock stilled for a second as he waited for Paul to continue.

“Come here.” Paul breathed and John did as he was asked. He crawled up over Paul’s body as Paul sat up again and pulled him into his lap, his hands on his arse. He kissed him briefly, before moving his mouth to John’s ear to tell him.

“I want to fuck you,” He admitted softly and John gasped at the confession, his cock twitching eagerly in his underwear at the thought, “if you let me, of course. God, John… I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Oh please. Please, Paul.” John nodded eagerly, his hands grabbing at Paul’s shoulders as he rolled his hips into Paul’s crotch, letting Paul’s cock rub over his arse. Paul smiled against his ear as he let his hands wander over John’s body. They stopped at the hem of his sleeping shirt and began to pull it off. John let him and once his shirt was off, he took Paul’s head in his hands and kissed him passionately.

“Lie down, luv.” Paul muttered against John’s mouth and John nodded. He broke the kiss and took a deep breath before he laid himself down on the bed, parting his legs for Paul and offering himself to him.

“Happy birthday, John.” Paul chuckled as he let his finger slide over John’s lips, making them tremble under his touch in anticipation.

          Paul laid down besides John, one leg thrown over one of the boy’s and pressing them even wider apart, as he moved his lips to John’s neck to suckle on. John let out a shaky, slightly nervous breath but tried hard to relax. Paul moved his lips behind John’s ear and as he started to lick and suckle there, he got out a heavy groan. He smirked and let one of his hands move down John’s bare chest to his underwear.

“Are you sure?” He asked with a light tug at the material, and John nodded eagerly.

“Yes… fuck, yes.” He muttered and Paul nodded.

“Roll over.” He told him and John did so without question. Paul let his eyes rake over John’s body as the eighteen-year-old rolled onto his belly, exposing his slightly muscled back and cute arse. Paul moved his hand down to cup it into his hands again and squeezed. John groaned into the pillow and his hands tangled themselves into the bedsheets. Quickly, Paul removed his trousers and underwear completely.

“I’ll be careful.” Paul promised sweetly with one last lick into John’s ear as he slipped on top of him, legs on either side of his body, his erection pressing against John’s clothed arse. To give him a slight preview of what was about to happen, he rolled his hip and was surprised to find John arching his back and pressing back into him eagerly. He groaned and leaned down to kiss the back of John’s neck.

“Perfect.” He breathed and John shuddered as he thrusted into him again. “If you want me to stop,” Paul continued, “Just say so and I’ll stop.” John nodded at that and let go of the sheets and reached into the top drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. The sight made Paul chuckle.

“Of course. Trust the teenager to bring the actual supplies.” He said and John chuckled into the mattress as he wiggled his bum.

“Where would you be without me?” He asked and Paul chuckled and took the bottle and condom from John and laid it down besides him. He moved his hands up the back of John’s thighs and over his bum. John groaned at the feeling and thrusted with his hips into the mattress, wanting more friction.

“Come on, Paul. I’m ready for you, luv.” He urged and Paul nodded.

“I didn’t doubt that, John.” He said and took a deep breath as he sat up a bit more and started to tug down John’s underwear. Apart from John’s blowjob, all they had been doing was dry humping and handjobs. And now he was going to fuck John. After this, there was no going back. For some reason that thought didn’t scare him. Instead it only urged him on.

He removed John’s underwear completely with a bit of John’s help and when he came back up, John had parted his legs as wide as they could go. Paul bit down his lip at the sight. He looked so good, lying there for him and only for him, ready to take whatever Paul was going to give him.

“Ready?” Paul couldn’t help but ask as he got the bottle of lube. John nodded eagerly and looked over his shoulder as he asked if Paul wanted him on his knees. When Paul nodded, he moved onto his knees, but kept his head on the pillow. Paul took in a sharp breath and moved his hands to John’s arse. He caressed his cheeks gently, and leaned down to kiss the small of John’s back as he let one finger slide down the crack of John’s arse to his opening. Both men gasped when Paul’s finger graced the rim. Not wanting to waste any more time, Paul opened the bottle of lube and spread some on his fingers. He leaned over John to kiss and nibble gently at his neck to take his mind off the uncomfortable feeling he would soon be experiencing. John chuckled at Paul’s consideration, but was cut off abruptly when he felt Paul’s lubed up finger press against his hole. He circled the rim for a bit, wetting it, before gently pressing in. John took a deep breath as the rim gave way for Paul’s finger.

          John let out a weak whine at the feeling of something entering him. The feeling was painful and although not completely unfamiliar, it still felt odd. He took a deep breath and tried to keep himself strong for Paul. Thankfully, Paul moved slowly, not pressing hard and only going as far as John would let him. John breathed in deeply and let out a shuddering breath to calm himself, like he did when he did this alone. It worked and Paul’s finger slipped in a little bit deeper, but a whine still escaped John’s lips.

“John? Are you okay?” Paul asked and John nodded as he bit his lip. He didn’t want Paul to think he couldn’t handle this. What if he’d stop if he knew he had never even had any one fuck him before? He had fucked other men of course, but this was the first time he was “the girl”. Not that he didn’t want it, but it was slightly scary. And painful, apparently. An involuntary relieved sigh escaped his lips when Paul pulled his finger out and moved him so he was lying on his back, looking up at him. Paul had noticed something wasn’t right.

“John,” Paul said, sounding rather stern, “Are you okay with this?” John nodded immediately, but didn’t speak. “Are you… are you a virgin?” He asked next and John blushed but shook his head.

“I-I just… I’ve never had anyone… do _that_ to me, you know? I mean, I had a finger up there a few times, but…” John didn’t want to continue that sentence, but he didn’t have to. Paul sighed and nodded.

“I’m going to go slow, yeah?” He asked and John nodded his okay. Paul’s hands pushed at his knees and he parted his legs right away. He blushed as Paul’s finger moved back to his opening. It was a lot different now that he could look at Paul. More real in a strange way. He took a deep breath when he felt Paul press against his opening and nodded, giving his okay. Paul gently pushed his finger back in. This time, it went a lot easier.

John tried to breathe calmly and normally and continued to look straight into Paul’s eyes as Paul pressed in a little further. For some reason, looking into those hazel eyes calmed him. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone and that Paul would stop whenever it got too much. When Paul’s finger was finally all the way in, John let out a relieved sigh and tried to get used to the feeling of having something inside of him. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. Just odd. When Paul curled his fingers, his eyes went wide and he gave a surprised cry. Pleasure shot through his body from somewhere inside of him. Was this what it had all been about?

“Still okay?” Paul asked with a smug smile and John nodded and pressed back against Paul’s finger, wanting more of that. Paul leaned down to kiss him and John responded to the kiss eagerly.

“I’m going to put in another.” Paul warned and John rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a baby.” He said and Paul chuckled at that as he retrieved his finger and pressed back in with another along the first. John screwed his eyes shut as the tried desperately to relax. This time it went a lot harder, but he managed. The feeling of being stretched was odd and hurt slightly, but he trusted Paul. He would always trust Paul.

“You’re doing so well, John. Just a little more.” Paul suddenly whispered into his ear, but John was too busy to hear was he was saying, so he simply nodded and turned his head to kiss Paul again. Soon, a second finger was inside of him as well and John felt a third press inside of him. He took a deep breath and bore down on Paul’s fingers as he pushed back, trying to get it inside of him. Paul’s press was slow and steady, but it still hurt. After a while, though, he got used to the feeling and he even let out a moan when Paul curled his fingers again. He moaned once more when Paul pulled out.

“Just relax,” Paul said as he crawled between John’s legs and pulled them up to his chest, “If it hurts, just say so.” John nodded and took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself as he listened to Paul opening the condom and rolling it on. After a minute or so, he felt something bigger push against him. He took a deep breath and tried to relax like Paul had told him to. When Paul started to push in, however, he tried to move away.

“John- John, luv. I’m here. It’s just me. You’ll be fine. You only have to trust me.” Paul whispered hotly, and John could hear he was aroused. He was aroused because of _him_. And he wanted him. He was here with him now and he wanted him. John wanted him too. He nodded and opened his eyes look look in Paul’s eyes again. Paul waited for his okay, and when John nodded again, he slowly moved forward a bit more. John forced his eyes to remain open as he felt himself slowly open up for Paul, letting him enter him. He breathed in deeply and when Paul stopped moving for a moment, he eagerly nodded, letting him know he was still okay.

Bit by bit he felt Paul’s cock enter him. It hurt, but nothing he couldn’t bare. Luckily, Paul wasn’t that large and when he was finally all the way inside of him, John let out a quiet sob from relief. He tensed when he felt Paul’s lips on his eyes and he realised he had closed them somewhere along the way.

“That’s it. Oh, John… you feel so good, you have no idea.” Paul muttered and John chuckled at the strange praise, but it did make him feel better. The older man offered him some time to adjust and when John felt okay, he gave a curt nod to let Paul he could start moving. Gently, Paul pulled out a little and thrust forward again, ever so slowly and only a little. John’s hands shot to Paul’s back and pulled him closer to him and kissed him urgently as Paul continued to move. 

After a while, Paul’s movements became easier and easier and soon Paul could move almost freely inside of John. John moaned weakly as Paul groaned into his mouth, and chanted his hips up, trying to help Paul find the spot inside of him that would make things just that little bit more pleasurable for John. When Paul finally changed his angle correctly, John let out a quiet gasp and jerked his head back, breaking the kiss. Paul chuckled blissfully and immediately buried his face in John’s neck instead and began to suckle and nip at the skin there as he continued to move inside of John, hitting that spot with almost every thrust.

“Oh… yes.” John moaned, his hands in Paul’s hair to play with and tug at, wanting more. His cock rubbed over Paul’s stomach as they moved, giving him just that little extra and soon he was panting Paul’s name.

“So good, John. You’re doing so well. Fuck…” Paul whispered into his ear and John nodded, as if he wanted to say the same thing to Paul, but didn’t know how. His cock had grown hard again, and although Paul’s cock inside him was still somewhat uncomfortable, the pleasure it gave him and Paul made up for it.

          “Paul… Paul, I-” John’s voice came weakly after a few more minutes. Paul nodded to say he was listening,  not being able to say another word. He was so far done already, but he didn’t want to come before John would. He wanted his first time like to be good and he wanted to show him that he would be able to come like this. But that wasn’t easy and Paul tried hard to think about his dead grandmother naked as he bit his lip to keep himself from coming.

“I- I’m close.” The words came as a blessing for Paul and he would have cried from happiness, if only John wouldn’t think he was weird if he did that. He pulled away from John’s neck and kissed him urgently, as he quickened his pace and slipped a hand between their bodies to give John just that little he needed. John moaned prettily into his mouth and with only a few more thrusts, he cried out his name weakly into Paul’s mouth, as his body spasmed beneath Paul’s, his legs trembling on either side of him as he came. Paul felt his cock throb his in his hand, shooting stripe after stripe of hot cum between their bodies and over Paul’s first. John’s muscles constricted around Paul’s cock and that’s when Paul lost it as well. He shoved his tongue down John’s throat and gave one last violent thrust that made John wail in slight pain, and emptied himself into the condom.

“Shit…” He groaned and when he finally came down from his high he collapsed onto of John with a content sigh. He kissed John’s forehead before he rolled off of him.

          “Fuck…” John breathed as he rolled onto his side and curled up into Paul’s warm chest. He felt utterly exhausted and he couldn’t move properly. On top of that, his arse felt as if it was on fire, but it had totally been worth it. He reached up to give Paul a large kiss on his lips and muttered a “thank you” against them. Paul chuckled at that, and pulled him into his arms.

They continued to lay there for a little while longer, enjoying each other’s presence and the aftermath of their orgasms. But when Paul spoke after a minute or three, John already couldn’t hear him anymore, having drifted off into a peaceful slumber already. He didn’t even wake up when Paul reached over him and cleaned him with the towel John had always hidden beneath his bed.

          About half an hour later, Paul opened the door to his bedroom and saw Julia’s form beneath the blankets, unmoving and looking peaceful. He sighed, having feared he and John had been too loud. He quickly grabbed a pair of pyjama bottoms and pulled them on, before slipping into bed besides Julia. He yawned loudly and curled up with his back to her as he let sleep take over his body.

However, before he had the chance to drift off into the same peaceful slumber as John was having at that same exact moment, the lights went on. He groaned and rolled onto his belly to bury his face into the pillow and block out that horrific light.

“Paul?” Julia’s voice came besides him and he groaned in response. Why couldn’t he just go to sleep? “Where have you been? It’s two in the bloody morning.” She asked and Paul strained his sleepy mind to come up with a good excuse.

“Couldn’t sleep, luv. I went downstairs to get myself something to drink. Just go to sleep, yeah?” Paul told her, but Julia didn’t believe him. She sat up in bed and tried to pull the covers off Paul, who groaned and held onto them tightly.

“No, you weren’t. Because I went downstairs to have a look when I woke up and you still weren’t here. And you were not downstairs. So where were you?” Julia asked sternly. Paul groaned once again in annoyance and rolled over to look her into the eye.

“You don’t trust me?” He asked, but Julia didn’t answer that. Instead she looked down in shame. Paul sighed and sat up and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, luv. I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired, okay? I was in the garden, getting some fresh air. I’m sorry for saying you don’t trust me. I know you do.” Paul apologised and Julia nodded. She loosened herself from Paul’s grip and moved to turn off the lights. She laid back down and pulled Paul down to lie down with her.

“Today was a good day, wasn’t it?” Paul asked as he laid down besides her, pulling her against him and kissing the top of her head. Julia nodded and looked up to give Paul a small peck on the lips, before laying her head back down on his chest.

“I do trust you, luv. I’m sorry.” She muttered and Paul winced from the inside. He shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry.” He said, and listened as she slowly fell asleep. Not long after, he followed her example, although it wasn’t easy.

* * *

 

The moment John awoke, he felt blissfully happy and uncharacteristically calm. Even when he stretched his body and reached besides him, only to find nothing but cold linen, did his peaceful mood not alter. Still, he let out a long yawn and rolled onto his side to look at the empty space besides him. He hadn’t expected any differently. He knew Paul wouldn’t have been able to stay- he wasn’t naive and knew fully well how uncomfortable Paul’s position must be. It would have been nice if Paul had awoken besides him, his arms thrown around him, warm breath against his neck, his croaky voice, heavy with sleep, lulling him slowly back into a peaceful slumber, but he didn’t tell himself any lies.

John yawned again and rubbed his eyes. He wondered what time it was. The bright sun light was shining in through windows, as he had forgotten to close them the night before. It blinded him, making it hard for him to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds. Twelve at the most- yes, he had counted. He sighed and rolled back onto his belly and rubbed his face in his pillow, trying to rub out all the sleepiness, but he had to groan loudly as his body began to protest to his movement. His legs ached and his arms and butt felt sore. Even his neck felt strained, making him wince when he turned to so he was lying on his cheek. He huffed in frustration and slowly began to move his limbs, trying to figure out what movements hurt him and which were only uncomfortable at the most. Thankfully, he realised his muscles didn’t protest as much anymore after they had warmed up slightly, and his bum only hurt whenever there was some pressure on it.

He rolled back onto his back with difficulty and carefully sat up, not wanting to hurt himself any more than was needed. He couldn’t help but grin at the realisation that Paul was the reason for his discomfort, or rather their unspeakable activities of the night before. It was a silly thing to get happy about, but even so, the physical evidence that what had happened last night was not a figment of his imagination made him feel even more blissful. Paul and him… it was hard to believe, even with the painful evidence.

Sitting up and getting out of bed, John replayed the actions of the night before in his head. He tried hard to remember just how Paul had felt when he had kissed him, how he had sounded when John had gone on his knees for him, the little whispers of encouragement and endearment. He thought back of the look on Paul’s face when he had entered him- face to face, eyeball to eyeball. He remembered how Paul had looked when he had come, all tensed up in intense pleasure, but still that look of love on his handsome face. And when John himself had come, because of Paul… Looking back at it, John decided that had been the best moment.

He mindlessly pulled on some pants and a clean, white shirt. He could have worn his sleeping shirt, which still lay discarded on the floor, but John felt like wearing something clean and white. He pulled the shirt over his head and fixed his hair as much as he could, using his fingers. He gave himself a look over in the mirror and winked at himself. He looked utterly satisfied and fucked-out, but not in a too obvious way. Just enough for Paul to notice, which was all that mattered.

          To his disappointment, on the other hand, Paul wasn’t downstairs when John came down for breakfast. It was only his mother, going over some homework for history with his sister as she drank a large mug of tea, trying her hardest to remember anything of the basic ideas and ideologies of the Enlightenment. She wore an almost constant frown on her forehead as she read through Jules’s homework and tried to help to form a correct answer. She looked up and smiled, although rather painfully, when she heard John walk in. John smiled back at her and came over to kiss her cheek, before making himself some breakfast. Julia’s frown disappeared at her son’s cheery mood and with renewed enthusiasm, she continued to help her daughter.

“I don’t think I was even taught all of this!” She exclaimed when John sat down with a cup of tea and some buttered toast. John grinned at her and shook his head.

“Of course you were, Mum. You were just too busy doing important things. Like me.” He told her. Julia laughed at that, but shook her head in disapproval. John was afraid she’d say something like “But school is important, John” in that way that made it very clear she and Mimi were sisters, but she didn’t. Instead, she pointed out some last important dates in Jules’s schoolbook, before ruffling her hair and standing up to clean the table of her and Jules’s breakfast plates.

“So, John, how does it feel to be an adult?” She asked as she washed the plates, her back turned to him. John shrugged and quickly swallowed a piece of toast before answering. He watched his sister continue her homework as he began to speak.

“Doesn’t feel much different. Just more… at peace somehow. You know, knowing I’ll be actually taken seriously from now on and not be thought of as some stupid kid. That’s good, I suppose. Sleeping is pretty much still the same, though.”

“If you want, seeing as you’re an adult now, you could move in with Stuart. If you still want to, of course. You  could. I mean… I can’t keep you here, and I know how much you’d want to get a place of your own. I understand if the house is too busy now, with Paul having moved in.” Julia suggested, but John heard a slight tremble in her voice that gave her away. He shook his head.

“Nah… Stuart’s place’s rotten, anyway. Besides, I think I’m liking it here now.” He mumbled as he ate another piece of toast. His mother turned around in surprise.

“Really?” She asked. John nodded at her.

“Yeah…” He didn’t want to say anything more, but his mother still seemed surprised. John couldn’t say he wouldn’t be if he were her. He’d been nagging her since Stuart had gotten that place, if he could live with him instead, and everything Julia had said “no” and he’d be pissed for days. But now, when she was actually giving her okay for his leave, he was refusing. John supposed it would have been mind boggling to anyone. Except him and Paul. Paul was really the reason he still wanted to stay. If he weren’t around, John was certain he’d be packing his stuff now. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t leave now. Not after what had happened between him and Paul.

“Where is Paul, by the way?” John asked, looking down at his toast, not meeting his mother’s eyes.

“Upstairs. He came home really late yesterday, so I let him sleep in a bit longer. He should be up soon, though.” Julia merely answered, turning back to the dishes. Jules let out a happy cry as she slammed her book shut and jumped up from her seat.

“Done!” She exclaimed loudly with a sigh. John chuckled at her and continued to eat his toast as she ran upstairs with her books.

“I’m going to do the shopping with Jules. We’ll be back in an hour or so.” Julia said as she let the filthy dish water drain. John nodded in understanding, an excited grin spreading across his face.

          When John stumbled back up stairs with the intention to dress himself and wake Paul up, he got an even better idea as he heard the shower running. He rid himself swiftly off his shirt, which he threw into his room, and tiptoed over to the bathroom, moving as quietly as he could so Paul wouldn’t hear him. His body still felt sore, making his self-assigned task a little more difficult than it normally would have been, but he figured most of his moans would be muffled by the door and the sound of running water.

He halted at the door. Taking a few deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down. He held up his hand, checking if it was shaking. He grimaced when he noticed it was slightly. He laid his hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly, wincing as it creaked. Paul could not hear him. Careful not to make any noise, John pushed the door slowly open and peeked around the corner. The whole room was steamed up and John could hardly see anything. As his eyes got used to the surroundings, he could see the outline of Paul’s naked body in the steam beneath the stream of water coming down onto his body. John felt his heart skip at the sight and for a moment he simply watched, the door slightly ajar.

The older man was washing his hair. His fingers had vanished into his greying locks of hair and were massaging his skull at a languid pace. For as far as John could see, which wasn’t far without his glasses, but he tried, Paul was taking his time, enjoying himself and closing his eyes as he relished the relaxing feeling of the warm water hitting his skin and the soothing massage he was giving himself. He let out a heavy sigh and looked up into the stream to let the water clean his face, keeping his eyes open the best he could. He looked absolutely gorgeous, his body shining in the dim light coming from a light opposite him, lighting up only one side of him.

John swallowed thickly and softly stepped inside. He shut the door behind himself, flinching when the door creaked ever so slightly. Luckily, Paul didn’t seem to have heard him and continued washing his face, leaning with his hands against the wall. John stood there for a while, merely looking at the older man as he felt his body react pleasantly to the sight. He could have stood there forever, in the hot, damp room, wordlessly watching and simply taking in the view.

But eventually, he had to join him. He had to touch, to feel him, to kiss him and hear his voice. He stepped closer, not caring anymore if Paul heard him, his feet patting on the damp bathroom floor. He could see Paul’s body tense up at the sudden sound, followed by a light chuckle. Still, he didn’t turn around.

“I thought you were going to do some shopping? Couldn’t wait to come back, could you?” Paul asked, his voice as croaky as John has imagined. John could only snicker at the idea that Paul thought he was his mother. It should have weirded him out, but for some reason it didn’t. Perhaps he was only getting used to the idea of his mother and… lover(?) together. He patted a little closer to the shower and leaned against the wall as he began to speak.

“After last night, how could I?” John spoke, a grin still on his lips. Paul turned around and stared at John for a while, not having expected him there at all, before he grinned back at him. It was strange how comfortable they had gotten around each other, but John didn’t feel like bringing it up as Paul reached out for him and pulled him to him under the stream of hot water, not caring that John was still wearing his underwear. John shrieked in surprise, but laughed contently as he was pulled against Paul’s warm and large body, the older man’s  arms wrapped around his waist.

“Hi.” He said, looking up at Paul and trying not to care about his now wet and heavy underwear that was clinging rather awkwardly at him in all the wrong places. He laid his hands on Paul’s chest, giving himself over to the older man. He gasped when Paul leaned down without another word and captured his mouth in a lazy, yet needy kiss. His tongue started nudging against his lips almost instantly, much to John’s delight, who allowed him in without a second though, only sighing as their tongues wrapped around each other. John’s fingers gripped at Paul’s chest, his nails digging into his skin. Paul merely moaned and his own fingers responded in kind, holding John’s waist tightly.

“Slept well?” He asked as their lips finally parted again. John smiled up at him and nodded, before reaching back up for another kiss. Paul chuckled at his enthusiasm and kissed him briefly, his fingers playing with the waistband of John’s soaked underwear.

“Good,” he said, “I did too.”

“Hmm… thank god for that.” John muttered softly, rubbing his ankle against Paul’s leg seductively, like he had seen in the films. Paul’s body felt hot against his, and his blunt nails were slowly starting to hurt his skin. John couldn’t bring himself to care however, and hoped Paul would leave a mark. It was strange to him, being the submissive one, but there was something comforting about it. Like he was being taken care of for once.

“Why?” Paul hummed, interrupting John’s thoughts. The youngest shrugged, but sneakily let his fingers descend to Paul’s little tummy, and even further down. Paul took in a sharp breath at the feeling. John could only smirk.

“Because I didn’t have the chance to finish that blowjob last night, and I’d like to do it now.” He whispered, faking shyness. Paul’s body shuddered ever so lightly against John’s at his words and he closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath. His fingers loosened, and moved up to John’s shoulders, lightly pressing him down.

“Oh yes, please.” He mumbled. John nodded and stood on his toe to kiss the corner of Paul’s lips- the man being still slightly taller than him- before sliding down onto his knees, letting his fingers slide over Paul’s wet skin, all the way down until the tips brushed their goal. Paul let out a shaky breath at the brief contact and bit his lip as he looked down at John, who knelt between his legs. His hair was damp and sticking to his forehead. Occasionally a string would fall before John’s eyes. Gently, Paul pushed the boy’s hair back, wanting to see his face if he was truly going to do this. The latter looked up and locked eyes with him, holding his gaze as his teasing fingers moved into the dark hair of Paul’s pubes, until the finally wrapped around the base, holding him lightly. Another shaky breath left the older man’s lips and his dick gave a little twitch, which John almost considered cute.

Without wasting another breath, he leaned in and wrapped his lips around the head of Paul’s cock, drawing a loud groan from his throat. The fingers in his hair tightened and petting him gently, encouraging him as John sat to work. He let Paul slide further into his mouth, suckling lightly, his tongue circling the head and rubbing the vein underneath. Another groan.

“Yess… that’s oh!” Paul mumbled softly. John looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes. If he could see well, Paul had his eyes closed, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth and his head thrown back against the cold, tiled wall. His cheeks had gone rosy and slowly it was spreading further down along his neck and chest. His nipples stood erect, looking cute enough to suckle on, if John something better to suck at that moment. Paul lay heavy on his tongue as it slid further and further, past his mouth and nudging into his throat. John closed his eyes for a moment with regret, as he tried to accommodate him. He swallowed around him, allowing him to slide into his throat, as he hollowed out his cheeks. Paul gasped at that and pulled lightly at his hair as he mumbled another, inaudible praise. John could hardly even hear him speak, being too concentrated on the task at hand- or mouth. Paul’s erection had started to grow to its full length, making it hard for John to breath as he tried to adapt to the grid that was filling his mouth and throat. He breathed through his nose the best he could and swallowed, gagging when Paul’s cock hit his gag reflex. Still, he did not pull away.

He felt his legs and jaw start to complain. He was still sore, and sitting knelt on the ground was straining his legs and even his back. He shifted slightly, hoping to find a more comfortable position as he continued to suck Paul off, not wanting to stop now, now he had the chance to make Paul come down his throat, like he had intended the night before. He managed to find a position that was slightly less painful for his back, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up as long as he would have liked. He cupped Paul’s balls in his hands and started to gently roll them around in his palm and he squeezed them lightly. Paul gasped in pleasure and his fingers fell from John’s hair to cup his cheek. He gently raised his chip to make him look up at him a bit more. John opened his eyes again and blinked away a few light tears that had started to form in the corners of his eyes as he looked into Paul’s eyes. He bobbed up and down Paul’s lengths, moving him out of his throat and merely sucked what was easiest for him. Paul didn’t seem to complain and the look of pure adoration and love in his hazel eyes almost frightened John.

“John…” The older man whispered, his breathing heavy and strained. He almost sounded pleading and when John felt another twitch on his tongue, he closed his eyes again and sucked him into his mouth a little deeper, before sucking and bobbing up and down with quick little movements, knowing the other man was close. Paul groaned, but kept his eyes on John as his orgasm neared. It almost seemed to hit him suddenly, as if he hadn’t expected it. He could only just groan out John’s name and press his head down, as he came, pleasure washing over his body, making him tremble. John frowned as he continued to suck, swallowed Paul’s cum as it shot down his throat and humming as he did so, letting Paul ride out his orgasm.

When the man had finally come down, he leaned forward and took his face into his hands, pulling him away and up to his feet before kissing him deeply and passionately, tasting himself on his tongue. John let out a surprised gasp, but quickly melted into the kiss, his fingers tangling into Paul’s wet lock, pulling him closer.

“Your turn.” Paul breathed, his voice ragged, and slid down onto his knees before the younger man to return the favour. John could only groan and leaned against the tiled walls as he relaxed and whispered hushed praises as Paul lowered his briefs and took him into his mouth.

          After John had finished, they remained in the shower for a little while longer, barely speaking a word and simply enjoying the touch of each other’s bodies and warm stream coming down on top of them. The giggled and kissed as they soaped each other up and cuddled dreamily, muttering nonsense. The simply enjoyed each other’s presence, until it was time to get out, dry off and get dressed. They had to be out before Julia and Jules would be back.

Paul got the both of them a towel and held one open for John to step into. He gently covered him with it and began to dry him for him, messaging John’s still sore muscles and making him relax in his arms and he kissed his neck lovingly. John hummed at the feeling and smiled contently. When Paul was finished, he wrapped the towel tightly around John, before drying off himself. John offered to do it for him, but Paul wouldn’t have it. John sat on the toilet, watching Paul intensely as he wrapped a towel around his waist and moved to the sink to shave.

“May I ask you something personal?” John asked as Paul spread the shaving cream around his chin. The man looked up at him through the mirror and nodded.

“Sure,” he said, “Considering what we’ve been doing, I don’t think you even need to ask.” John nodded at that and chewed on his lip as he thought about how to phrase his question.

“Do you remember when I asked you if you were queer?” John asked after a short while. Paul chuckled at that and nodded as he got his razor and dragged it carefully across his skin. “Well,” John continued, thinking hard, “Did you tell me the truth then? I mean, did you… you know… ever have anything with a guy before?” John waited in silence for Paul’s reaction. He still wasn’t wearing his glasses, so he couldn’t deduce it from Paul’s expression, which was hardly anything more than a blurry spot. It remained quiet for a bit and Paul continued to shave. For a moment John was afraid he’d never get an answer. Or perhaps that Paul was ignoring him now or something. But after he was finished and had washed off the remaining cream, he turned around to look at Paul.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked, his voice soft. John swallowed thickly, knowing this was not a topic Paul liked to talk about. However, before he could even answer, Paul had sighed again and had turned back around to clean his razor. He softly started to speak. John held his breath all the while, daring not to make a sound in case Paul would stop.

“I had someone, once. When I was fourteen I met a guy. He was one year older than me and one class higher, so we didn’t see each other often, but he was beautiful. Dark eyes, dark silky hair, a slight tan on his skin. Dressed well, too. He was clever. Passed maths and physics and chemistry with ease, read thick books, knew things I didn’t know about pretty much everything. I looked up at him and used to hang around with him. I’d help carry his books, hang off his lips whenever he spoke and laughed at all his jokes.”

“One day, I stayed behind at school with him and a few of his friends. I wanted to be around him, although I did not understand why back then. I was young. But he understood, as always. I sat down next to him, closer than normally and handed him anything he’d ask. Some guys snickered at that, but didn’t dare to say anything of it. I must have been annoying to him. Always being there, wanting his attention. He called me out on it. In front of everyone. He called me pathetic. A queer, disgusting little fellow, in front of everyone and… I stood up and left. Without saying a word. I had felt sick and dizzy as everything seemed to fall away from me. I ran home, locked myself in my room and didn’t come out all evening except for dinner, which I could hardly eat.”

“The next morning, I was scared. I understood now. I understood there was something… off… about me. Not quite right and I was afraid that everyone else knew too. Thankfully, he hadn’t told anyone, but he refused to talk to me or even look at him. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t listen. I was glad when he left.” Paul finished. It was almost completely quiet in the room, except for the running water from the tap as Paul continuously rubbed the already clean razor. As soon as he noticed, he put it down and closed the tap.

“That’s fucking shit.” John commented, his voice silent. Paul chuckled sadly, and nodded.

“Damn right. I never did anything about my feelings after that, actually. I went out with girls, watched football matches, kept to my music and school. Especially after mum died.”

“And that’s all you’ve-” John started, but Paul quickly interrupted him.

“Oh no. I… my first and only real experience with a guy was at university when I was twenty-two. It was stupid really. I had had my eye on a guy who I had spotted during a couple of lectures on Scottish Literature. I went to a party and he was there. We got talking and drank all evening. I don’t know how, but eventually we ended up in some closet, his hand down my pants. It was the first time I had had sex with a guy and the only time. It hadn’t even been that good. We were both to drunk and it hurt. Lack of knowledge and lube.”  Paul said, fumbling with the tap as he looked down at his fingers. It felt good talking about it for once, even if it did hurt.

“The following morning we agreed it had been a mistake. A drunken mistake. I never spoke to him again. I don’t think I was ever in love with him, but it still hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” John said, standing up from his seat and stumbling over to Paul. He laid a gentle hand on his arm. Paul shook his head and chuckled again.

“You don’t have to. I mean… It’s not that bad. I like girls. Always have and I love them. So no, I’m not exactly queer. I- I don’t know what I am, but I don’t really care much.” Paul said. John hummed at that and gently turned him around to face him. When Paul’s eyes met his, he leaned up and placed a light kiss on the other man’s lips.

“Sounds good to me.” He said and Paul smiled thankfully, before kissing him back.

“Another other questions?” Paul asked, clearly trying to sound strong. John thought for a while until a great idea came into his head. He looked up at Paul with a cheeky grin and nodded.

“Do you have any photos of yourself when you were younger? Like my age? I’d like to see.” He asked and Paul wasn’t sure what to say for a while. But eventually he nodded.

“Go get dressed and I’ll make tea and get the photos ready. Deal?” He asked and John nodded excitedly, actually being very curious to see what Paul looked like when he was younger. He kissed Paul once more tenderly, pulling at his lips, trying to tell him they will be alright, before pulling away and rushing off to get dressed.


	13. Chapter 13

School had started again. Winter was slowly making its way to England and the days grew shorter, colder and darker. John didn’t mind much. Christmas was less than two months away and he could hardly wait for the streets to be packed in snow, Christmas songs to be blaring from the radio and see children play in the snow, making snow angels, snowmen and throwing snowballs in each other’s faces (something that John still enjoyed himself). But first, he had to wait and sit through the horrendous English weather of rain and wind.

Thankfully, John was busy enough to pass some time easily as he waited. Since he and Paul had started this thing between them some weeks ago, John hadn’t spent much time on his school work, even if he had stayed out of trouble. But now the exams for his first school report were coming up and he had to work hard to catch up with everything in order to at least pass some classes and keep himself from being thrown out of school. Contrary to popular belief, he did sort of care about his grades. But only just enough to pass the  year and get out of this hell hole they called college as quickly as possible without doing more work than necessary. And the only thing worse than school was work. John did not have any idea of what he’d do if he got thrown out of college. Apart from being like Elvis, of course.

John kicked against a rock, letting it roll through a few puddles of water, as he stumbled across the pavement on his way home, not caring if he got wet. His bag was heavy with work and already he didn’t feel like doing any of it. He had to, though. He had to earn at least an C to pass history of art, and he had not even opened his books yet. He didn’t even know what they were discussing at the moment, except that it was about something old and boring. Perhaps Cynthia could help him. Even if she wasn’t in the same class as him, she still had to do the test too, didn’t she?

Sighing, John walked on and started humming a light tune to himself and let his mind wander, away from school. He had band practise that evening, and John was looking forward to it. They had managed to get another two gigs before the Christmas holidays, which no one had expected. John was excited to think he could finally use his new amazing guitar before an audience for the first time. A real one! Not like the one at his birthday party, consisting of friends. John had been busy writing some new songs for them to play, but so far he hadn’t gotten that far yet.

He could not ask Paul to help him, as he was far too busy himself with his own work and keeping his mother happy. Paul had told them work was becoming more busy now the holidays were approaching. The first months had past and people were asking for help more often and many assignments had to be turned-in before the last day of school, which meant Paul had to read through many drafts to give some feedback and even tutor students who were having trouble. Apart from that he also had the regular homework and tests to grade. Of course, he wished to be at home as much as possible, but for the last week he hadn’t been home before half past six and this evening he wouldn’t be home before seven, or half past at the latest, which meant they would not get to see each other that evening. John would already have left by the time Paul got home.

Apart from that, being busy with work also meant he spent more of the free time he did have with Julia. John noticed she wasn’t quite feeling herself, and he had heard Paul speak with her and try to comfort her a few nights back when he hadn’t been able to sleep. All in all, John and Paul hadn’t found moments longer than fifteen minutes to be alone together, and even then they had to be careful not that get caught. Sadly, since their little get-together in the shower, sex had been off the table as well. They just couldn’t find enough time. John hoped they’d be able to find some time together again soon. He was starting to feel a little twitchy and impatient.

          Stepping through the front door, John ruffled his hair to try to shake out all the droplets of rain. Many landed on the flooring, but most stayed in his hair. In the end he had only messed it up more. John sighed in defeat and walked into the kitchen to find his mother doing the dishes. Something was off about her, though. Julia stood hunched over the sink, her head hanging low between her shoulder and her left foot was nervously running along her right leg. She was humming, too. John carefully approached her, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Julia?” John asked softly, his voice as gentle as he was able to make it. Julia didn’t react to him at first and continued to stare at the sink. Her gloved hands were tightly grasping a sponge. Carefully, he laid a hand on her arm and said her name again. This time, she turned her head to look at him in surprise.

“John? Why aren’t you at school?” She asked him. She glanced at the clock and blushed when she realised it was already four o'clock.

“Are you okay? How long have you been standing here?” John asked softly, sliding his hand down her arm and gently prying the poor sponge from his mother’s iron grip. Julia didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing, but eventually John managed to get her to let it go.

“I’m fine, luv. Just been daydreaming, is all. Want a cup of tea?” She asked, giving him a light smile in an attempt to make him believe nothing was wrong. John could see through her, though, but wasn’t sure what to do, so he merely nodded and smiled back at her.

“That would be nice.”

          With a loud thud, John dropped his heavy back on the floor next to his desk. He was glad he gotten away from his mother. He didn’t like to see her like that, especially now it was coming more and more often. Come to think of it, Julia hadn’t been acting like this for a long time now. Since she had started seeing Paul, she had been more happy, calmer and enthusiastic about life. Paul had done her good, allowed her to feel loved and not as worthless as some people had made her believe she was. Of course, she had sometimes had her bad days, but overall things had been good for her. But now she was becoming more and more redrawn and, well, sad. He hoped she would feel better again soon. He hoped Paul would be able to cheer her up. Things were still fine between them weren’t they? John hoped so.

He let himself fall down onto his stomach on his head. It was still raining outside and John could only hope it would stop when he had to head to Stuart’s place. He did not like the ideas of coming there soaked through the bone. Especially, because he did not want to wear Stuart’s clothing. They guy was smaller than him and skinnier, and John always felt afraid he’d tear his clothes whenever he wore something of his. Stuart would be pissed at him if he tore through one of his shirts. Although, he could look rather comical when he was angry.

Snickering at the thought of the last time he had seen Stuart angry, John reached beneath his pillow and pulled out a couple of old photographs. As soon as his eyes landed on a particularly pretty brown haired boy smiling at him through the photo, his snickering subsided to the point where he was only smiling dreamily down at the said boy. He was twenty-two years old and John wished he had been alive to see him for real with his own eyes. He had nicked this picture from Paul’s photo album when he hadn’t been looking, together with a few others. Paul had given him two others himself, for which John was grateful.

It had been strange to see the older man when he was younger, looking so much like John and his friends, being happy and spending time with his own friends, making music, going on hitch hiking trips with George and playing with his little brother when they were even younger and sitting in his mother’s lap. He had seen school photos, a few pictures on holidays with his family, pictures of him dressed up when he was little, playing guitar in the backyard, performing with his own friends. A few pictures of him with past girlfriends and even one with the boy Paul had told him about. But he had snatched only a few. One of Paul running when he was sixteen, which only looked ridiculous, this one with him as twenty-two years old, taken by his brother who was into photography, one of him all sweaty and playing guitar as he screamed into a mic, one of him at the beach when he had been twenty-three, shirtless. From Paul he had gotten one of his seventeen year-old self playing guitar and a picture of him and George when they had been about fifteen and gone hitch hiking.

John liked looking at the photos, but he couldn’t help wishing he had been around then, too, playing music with Paul, getting drunk with him at parties, going swimming and seeing him half-naked. Or skipping school with him or going going on holiday together. To somewhere special, like Spain or Paris. He wished he could have been the one with whom Paul had experimented and discovered his sexuality with. Not that jerk who had made fun of him for it, or the closet-guy. Paul had deserved better than that. He had blushed and looked away when John had told him that, getting up to get them something to drink and giving John the time to steal a few pictures he had liked.

He sighed at the memory and wished Paul was with him now so he could kiss him or just be close to him. He missed him, even if they had seen each other briefly at breakfast. It wasn’t enough anymore. He wished they could have some privacy, or simply have fun like they would have done, had they both been in their late teens. Like making out at school while skipping class or something dirty and sneaky like that. John’s eyes went wide and a wide grin spread over his face. He had an idea.

          After dinner, John quickly hurried back upstairs to grab his guitar and other things he needed for practice that evening. It was only a quarter to six, and he only had to be at Stuart’s at seven, so he had plenty of time still. It was only five minutes from Paul’s school if he cycled fast. He giggled nervously and quickly bit down his lip as his mother came up the stairs with a curious look on her face.

“I thought you said you had practice at seven?” She asked as John shoved his notebook in his bag along with some pens and pencils.

“No, we er… Stuart asked us if we could be there earlier.” John lied. He refused to look at his mother as he went to grab his guitar from underneath his bed, pushing away some dirty clothes and bawled up pieces of paper. Julia didn’t comment on the mess. She had given up long ago. “He called this afternoon.” John added, as he grabbed his guitar case to put it in.

“Oh, I didn’t hear anything. We could have eaten sooner if you had told me.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll be on time.” John said as he stood back up and slung his back over his shoulder. He took his guitar in his hand. He smiled at his mother, who nodded. Together they walked downstairs and John had to promise he wouldn’t be home late, before he got a goodbye kiss on the cheek and hurried out of the door. He swiftly glanced at his watch. He still had plenty of time.

          John arrived at Paul’s school about fifteen past six, which would give Paul and John just enough time. He flung his bike against the gate of the school and hurried inside without locking it, carrying his guitar and bag. John had been at this school before with Ringo to pick up Maureen, but those three or four times hadn’t been enough for him to now know where he was supposed to go. He vaguely recognised the way to the canteen and recognised the way to the lockers and the stairs. He figured the teacher’s lounge would probably be upstairs, so he went upstairs.

There was hardly anyone around. John only saw two other people around as he searched for Paul- he hadn’t been in the teacher’s lounge. Neither knew where Paul was, so John continued his search. Once he had done the second floor, he went back downstairs to do the first floor and after that he went to the third, where he ran into a familiar face.

“John! What are you doing here?” The older man asked after they had literally ran into each other. John blushed slightly as he looked up at the skinny man before him, not remembering his name. It was Paul’s friend, the guy who had helped Paul move in. The silent one and with whom Paul had gone hitch hiking. Oh, what was his name again?

“I-I er… I’m looking for Paul. Is he around?” John asked, stammering slightly, deciding it was better not to guess the name or ask him for it. The other man frowned at that, but nodded.

“Yeah, he is. I actually just saw him, too. He’s in room 302, if you want to know. Though, I don’t think you should bother him right now. He’s busy.”

“Oh, what a shame. I’ll go see him anyway.”

“John, I don’t think-” The other man started, but John had already ran past him, looking around himself to spot room 302. He had wasted more than enough time with his search. He could not lose any more.

          Finally, John spotted the door to room 302 and he let out a sigh of relief. He raised his hand to knock at the door, but quickly decided against it. He should surprise Paul. He leaned in and pressed his ear against the door and held his breath as he listened closely. He could not hear anyone inside, which unnerved John slightly. Was Paul alone? He hoped so. If he wasn’t, he should hear people talking, shouldn’t he? Taking a deep breath, John laid a hand on the doorknob and gently turned it. He looked around him to see if anyone was looking, but the whole hallway was empty. He lightly pushed the door slightly open so he could peek inside.

Even with the door open, it was unnervingly quiet inside the room. John could see Paul’s desk and as he pushed the door slightly more open, he noticed it was empty. The pushed the door further open and sighed when he saw it was empty. Paul wasn’t there.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, sending John a few feet up into the air with a loud shriek.

“And what are you doing here?” A low, booming voice asked him, that send trembles down John’s body. Fuck.

“I-I was just-” John started, but his voice was cut off as he was roughly turned around. A hand grabbed him tightly by his arm, his nails digging into his skin. John was certain he’d have bruises the next day.

“Lennon. Came here to cause trouble, did you? Well, not on my watch! Come on. I’m going to lead you out. And no excuses, you hear me!”

“But, Paul- I mean Mr McCartney… I-I need to speak with him.” John tried, his voice much weaker than he would have liked.

“Ha! As if I would belief that. No, Lennon. You’re done here. You have no business being here. Now, follow me.” John sighed, knowing he would not get out of this.

          John arrived at Stuart’s place a bit too early. He had not tried to sneak into the school again, knowing he’d either get kicked out again or he and Paul would not have enough time. Especially not if he would have to convince Paul to do some dirty things in his classroom, which John was certain would be the case. Stuart, however, didn’t mind and offered John a smoke and a beer as he finished his dinner. John was surprised to find Stuart had actually cooked something for himself, and when Stuart had offered him some, he had immediately taken a step back.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. I wouldn’t kill you. Who’d have to sing all the songs, then? I know I won’t.” Stuart joked, stuffing a few potatoes in his mouth.

“Good to know you love me so much, Stu.” John said as he sat down next to his friend on the couch with a deep sigh. Stuart frowned at that and stopped eating for awhile as he studies his friend closely. This only resulted in John squirming awkwardly besides him.

“What?”

“You okay?” Stuart asked and John shrugged. “Let me guess. Some guy wouldn’t suck you off.” Stuart spoke with a giggle, knowing how his friend was when he hadn’t gotten some action in a while. John shot him a glare, but didn’t say anything against it. It was closed to the truth as possible, if he didn’t want to tell him what he and Paul had been up to. Stuart knew too much as it was. He jumped in shock when Stuart lay a hand on his arm and squeezed.

“You know what, Lennon? We’ll go out after this and find some pretty boy for you, alright?” He suggested with a large smile plastered onto his face, making it hard for John to say no. He nodded.

“Fine. But only if you buy me a drink.” He said, to which Stuart agreed. At least he’d be able to drink. After that it wasn’t long till the others showed up, so Stuart decided to finish his food during practise. Although, perhaps that had been a mistake, as most of his food was picked off his plate by Ringo.

          It was a calm evening at the club. There weren’t many people around and John and Stuart didn’t have to shout at each other to make themselves audible. They had taken an empty booth at the back of the club, away from prying eyes. They sat closely together, laughed and talked as they drank and checked out the people at the club. John found it entertaining to make Stuart blush and stumble over his words, whenever he commented on a particularly handsome guy, so he tried his best.

They came here often, as it was one of the few places in Liverpool that wasn’t a queer club where John was certain he would not get beaten up whenever he asked some guy to come to the bathrooms with him or take him home. Most people knew what went on in the shadows at this club, but simply tried to ignore it. As long as you weren’t open about, everything was fine, and John liked that.

He saw a few interesting people around, whom John normally would have tried to get on with, but he didn’t feel like it. He liked to look at them, comment on them and make his friend blush with inappropriate comments, but he was silently hoping none of them would come up to them. He wasn’t as smooth with turning people down as with chatting them up.

For a long time, it went well, and John could relax and drink the free drink Stuart had bought him- scotch and coke. He rarely drank anything other than beer, but he hadn’t felt like beer, and if Stuart was buying, why not? Besides, Paul liked it. Stuart had simply gotten himself a beer, which he was happily gulping down with a pink face.

“So, Stuart. How’s your love-life, eh? Need uncle Johnny to get you a pretty girl?” John asked as he nudged his friend in the side, making him nearly choke on his drink. John laughed as Stuart coughed almost painfully, until he took pity on him and patted him on the back.

“Fuck you, Lennon. And don’t try to change the goal here. We’re trying to find you someone, remember? To get you laid and to rid you of that horrible grumpiness.” Stuart told him, his throat raw. John rolled his eyes and skimmed around the room until his eyes found a pretty brunette dancing with her friend.

“How about her?” He asked, pointing at her. The girl looked over at them and smiled when she saw them looking, but Stuart quickly pulled John’s hand down. The girl looked away with a grin.

“No. Now, which guy do you fancy?” Stuart hissed, but John didn’t answer. The girl moved out of eyesight and John caught the gaze of some other guy behind her, dancing with a girl as if doing his grandma’s laundry would give him less agony. The guy’s eye landed on John and his expression softened almost right away. He smiled shyly at him, which John returned without thinking.

“That one, eh? Come on, ask him over.” Stuart said suddenly and quickly John looked away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, but Stuart’s eyes were already twinkling mischievously, which was never a good sign. John bit back a groan. He did not want to get laid. No, rephrase that, he did not want to get laid with some random guy. He was still disappointed about not having been able to find Paul earlier that evening and that, if he would go home, he and Paul would still not be able to have sex. Or at least kiss longer than four seconds. If that at all. It was frustrating and John wished Paul was here so they could do it in the loo, away from curious looks and his family. Dirty thoughts clouded his brain after that. He did not notice it that Stuart had beckoned the other man over, until he felt a strange leg press against his.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s been busy.” He could hear Stuart say, and he turned his head into the direction of the strange person sitting besides him. The guy looked handsome up close. Light brown hair, thin red shirt and tight black jeans. His lips looked firm enough to kiss and his blue eyes twinkled as they stared back at John with interest.

“Hi.” The young man spoke. John sighed and spend the next fifteen minutes trying to get the another man to understand that yes, he was cute, but no, he did not want to have sex with him.

          Once he had gotten the boy to leave to find someone who was interested, he found Stuart glaring at him besides him.

“Why did you do that?! You liked him, didn’t you?” Stuart hissed at him, leaning in so he wouldn’t have to speak so loud. John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I just… wasn’t feeling it, you know.” John admitted, but didn’t go any further than that. Stuart narrowed his eyes at him and leaned back a bit as he looked John up and down and looked at the boy a few times, as if he was trying to figure out what he had done wrong. John grabbed his already empty glass and tipped it back to let the last miniature drop of alcohol land on his tongue. When he saw Stuart’s eye go wide in realisation, he knew he should make some new friends to hang out with.

“This is about your step dad, isn’t it?” He asked. John scoffed at that and placed the glass back on the table. He stared at the bottom of it as he tried to answer as casually as possible.

“He’s not my step dad, Stu. And don’t be ridiculous. Why would it be?”

“You didn’t end things with him, did you?” Stuart asked, staring at him intently, looking honestly shocked. John tried not to let anything show.

“Stu, this hasn’t got anything to do with Paul, I told you. The guy just wasn’t my type. Just because he’s cute, doesn’t mean I want to have sex with him, okay?”

“You keep lying to me, John, but you and me both know I’ll get the truth out of you.”

“Just leave it.”

“But I’m right!” John didn’t say anything against that. Stuart knew him too well, always had, and no matter how hard he would try to lie to him, he just couldn’t do it. Even his silence had been enough confirmation. “John, you really need to stop things with him. You’ll only end up hurt.”

“It’s not that easy, Stu.” John muttered back, even though he knew Stuart wouldn’t think the same. “Besides, what’s the big deal. We all grow old eventually.”

“He’s twenty-five years older than you and dating your mum!”

“Shout it a little louder, Stu. I don’t think that girl over there has heard you quite right.” John shot back at his friend, but Stuart ignored that comment and shuffled closer to John.

“You can’t be serious, John? Do you… Do you love him?” Stuart asked. John sighed and shook his head.

“I need some fresh air. I think I’ll go home.” He said and moved to stand up, but Stuart quickly grabbed his by his wrist and pulled him back down.

“You’ll only hurt yourself, you know.” He said, and John smiled sadly at him, before standing up again.

“I’ll see you at school. Thanks for the drink.” He told him. Stuart nodded at that and watched quietly as John pulled on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck, grabbed his things and walked away, disappearing through the door into the cold night.

* * *

 

Paul let out a loud yawn as he stretched himself out behind his desk. It had been a tiring day and he couldn’t wait to finally slide into his comfortable bed beside the woman he loved and simply sleep. Only, John hadn’t gotten home yet and he wanted to see him before he went. They had hardly spoken to each other all week, both being too busy, and he was missing him. Thankfully, the weekend was nearing quickly.

Looking down at the assignment he was grading, he sighed in frustration. He needed to finish grading these assignments today and this was the last one, although Paul doubted this particular student had even looked at the assignment. Nothing was making any sense and it was taking him forever.

He glanced over at Julia on the couch. She was silently reading a book, a cup of tea in her hands. She was already wearing her pyjama bottoms and a simple white shirt. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower she had taken a while ago, making it almost straight. She reminded Paul of when he had first seen her sitting in his little apartment after they had spend their first night together. The memory made his stomach churl unpleasantly and he had to look away from her.

          At that moment, however, the front door opened and some shuffling could be heard in the hallway. Soon after, the door fell close with a loud thud. Some more rummaging sounds emerged from the hallway, but not long after, the door to the living room opened, revealing a rather pale-looking John. Paul turned his head to look at Julia with a worried expression, wondering what was wrong with the younger man. Had something happened? He didn’t look like he had been in a fight or anything.

John looked around the room with a tentative smile, nodding at his mother when their eyes met, but refusing to acknowledge Paul.

“John? There you are, finally. I was starting to worry.” Julia asked from the couch. Her voice was heavy with sleep, making Paul wish she would just go to bed already and not wait up for him. He didn’t know how long this was going to take still and Julia had seemed out of it for a while now. She needed her rest. John gave her an apologetic smile and cocked his head to the side with a shrug.

“Sorry. I was at the pub with Stu. Kind of forgot the time, you know.”

“Right. A-are you…? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Julia asked as she put her book aside and sat up a bit more, her glasses falling to the edge of her nose. John shrugged again and nodded, but Paul could see a very light hint of a flush creeping up on his cheekbones. Still, John refused to look at him.

“I’m fine, Mum. Just tired. Practice was tiring . Frustrating.” John said with a fake yawn afterwards.

“Frustrating?” Paul asked. John’s head turned to him and their eyes met very briefly, before John quickly looked at his mother again. The moment was odd, though. John’s eyes had been a bit glassy, but wide, as if he was scared or something like it.

“Yeah… just… It’s this song I’ve been working on. Can’t figure it out.”

“I could help?” Paul suggested immediately. He could see Julia tense up on the couch from the corner of his eye, which surprised him. “This weekend if you want to. You can have it finished before your next gig!” The thought made John smile, and for a second time their eyes met and this time they were warmer.

“That could work.” John said and Paul nodded, leaning with his elbow on the back of the desk chair as he leaned with his head in the palm of his hand, letting it rest there. John smiled softly at him, before turning back to his mother. Paul turned around to get back to his marking again as John said he’d be going upstairs and sleep. The older man couldn’t agree more with that decision and wished he could make the same one.

“Oh, and John? Are you home this Saturday?” Julia suddenly asked when John had already turned around to walk out of the room and head to his own. Paul listened closely to their conversation, held in a more  quiet fashion, but they were still loud enough for him to hear them.

“Why?” John merely asked, making his mother sigh.

“Paul’s father is coming over for dinner Saturday. We would like you to meet him, so we want you to be home.”

“Oh, right. Yeah… I’ll be home.” John agreed with a little smile and turned back around to walk up the stairs without saying another word, leaving Julia unsure on whether or not to believe him.

“Right. So, I’m going to go sleep, too. You come to bed whenever you’re ready. I’m just real tired.” Julia said after John had been gone for a while. She stood up from the couch and went over to Paul and leaned down to kiss his cheek, but Paul turned his head quickly, making them kiss on the lips instead, which made Julia giggle.

“I’ll come to bed, too. This can wait.” Paul suggested, but Julia merely chuckled and shook her head.

“No way, Paul. You need to finish this. Besides, I’m not in the mood, anyway. Too tired.” She said and Paul nodded in understanding, which earned him a second kiss, more than he had expected with Julia acting so off.

“Alright, darling. I’ll come to bed, too, as soon as I’m done. I’ll try not to wake you.” He agreed and Julia smiled, before grabbing her book and going upstairs as well, leaving Paul alone to finish up his work. Paul took a deep breath and turned back to the assignment in front of him. He could finish this!

          It was cold in John’s bedroom. He had forgotten to close his window and he was deeply regretting that now. He was laying in bed, curled up in his sheets, covered completely from the tip of his toes to his nose, trying his hardest to shield himself from the cold. He wasn’t really tired or sleepy, though. He just wanted to be left alone for a bit. To think. So he mostly stared up at his Elvis poster and tried to build up the willpower to reach out with his hand for a piece of cloth, preferably a towel.

His one dirty hand was still stuffed in his pyjama bottoms, feeling sticky and slightly itchy as his cum began to dry. Every other moment, images of the fantasy he has used to get off on would flood his brain, making him blush. Still, he wanted Paul to do those things to him. He wanted Paul to call him into his classroom, tell him how naughty he’d been, lay him out across the desk and fuck him so hard they would break it. He wanted Paul to fuck him so hard he could feel his cock in his throat. His own limp cock was already twitching again from just thinking about it.

The other moments he mostly thought about Stuart’s question and that calmed his cock down again immediately, even if his heart only began to race faster. The question made him uncomfortable and he’d much rather just think about the embarrassing fantasy, but he couldn’t. What if he was in love with him? He hadn’t been able to say “no” to Stuart- not that it would have been any easier to say “yes”- but that had to mean something, hadn’t it? But, wasn’t it a bit early to speak of love? They had only just started this thing a couple weeks ago. They had only met about 3 months ago! And Paul was 25 years older than him, and he himself was only 18! Stuart was right. This was ridiculous. But just the thought of breaking things up with Paul was nauseating. Wasn’t that saying enough?

          A knock on the door startled him. He turned his head in the direction of the door and pulled the sheets down a bit to uncover his mouth. He waited a few seconds just in case he had imagined it, but as soon as another light knock came, he softly called back: “Yes?”

The door opened softly and a dark figure appeared. The figure came into his room and closed the door behind him. He raised a hand to his lips to motion John to be quiet.

“Paul? What are you doing here?” John asked, as he debated with himself if he should get up or not. As Paul came closer to him, John decided that would be the best thing to do. Then he remembered his dirty hand. Keeping that one still in his pants, he carefully sat up, leaning on one hand to keep himself up. The older man sat down on the side of his bed. Being closer now, John could see him better. He reached for his glasses on his bedside table and put them on. Paul was smiling at him, but looked very tired.

“Looks good on you.” The older man said, nodding with his head at John glasses. John blushed at the compliment and felt his heart swell at the idea that Paul actually genuinely liked them. He shuffled a little closer and noticed Paul was studying him intensely, his doe eyes darting across his face and down at the rest of his body.

“I just wanted to be sure you were feeling okay. You looked a bit off downstairs.” Paul explained, now looking at his messy hair. John wondered what he was thinking whenever he looked at him.

“I’m fine. I told you.” John said quickly, giving Paul a light smile, that he hoped Paul could see it in the dark. Paul, however, wasn’t convinced and shook his head.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“If you don’t want to tell me I’ll understand.” Paul said quickly and John bit down his bottom lip as he considered this. Paul looked completely serious and John knew Paul was the last person he had to lie to. Except, this wasn’t something he could discuss with him. It could even scare him off. “I just want to know if you’re okay.” Paul added gently. John nodded to say he understood.

“I’m fine. Just been thinking too much, you know. Nothing bad. You shouldn’t worry.” John told him. It seemed enough for Paul. He smiled and nodded too, before leaning in and placing a light peck on John’s lips. The younger man sighed at the contact, which made Paul chuckle.

“What?” John asked as the pulled away. Paul shook his head.

“You’re not as tough as you seem, are you?” He asked. John didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “Now, careful you don’t over-think things and break your brain. Go catch some sleep. You’ve got to get up early for school after all.“ Paul continued, after which he leaned in once more to kiss him more properly this time, cradling the side of John’s face in his hand. John smiled into the kiss, but kept his hands by his own body. Once they broke apart, Paul stood up again and waited for John to lay back down, before tucking him in. John grinned, but didn’t say anything, secretly liking the way Paul would fuss about him.

          It was Saturday. It was still cold and grey outside but it wasn’t raining anymore, which John appreciated. He and Paul had locked themselves up in his bedroom. They were sitting next to each other on the bed, guitar in their laps, pieces of paper and pens scattered on the bed between them, filling with nonsense words, good lyrics, chords and scratches. John was playing through what they had so far, and honestly it didn’t sound half as bad as it was when they had started. It still wasn’t that fantastic, but considering they had only been working on it for about an hour, they were doing good. John couldn’t wait to hear the song when it was finished. He looks up from his guitar to look at Paul, who was grinning happily, obviously pleased with what they had achieved. Some chords were a bit odd and there still were a few lines that could flow a bit better, but that was all. Their eyes met and John nearly cocked up. He could never get used to seeing those gorgeous eyes looking directly into his.

When the song ended, Paul took the piece of paper with the latest version of the song from John’s knee, his fingers brushing against his covered body, which shivered lightly in response. It was ridiculous what kind of effect Paul had on him. Honestly, it was a miracle John hadn’t thrown their guitars aside already and force their bodies together in a wanton embrace. However, he controlled himself, and instead watched Paul’s fingers as the gripped a pen tightly and moved across the paper, hastily scribbling things down.

"I don’t think the G was working, so I changed it to an F instead. Try that and see how that works.” Paul said with a smile as he nibbled at the end the the pen and looked the paper over one last time. When he looked up and placed the paper back on John’s knee, the younger man quickly grasped his wrist and held his hand on his knee, keeping Paul from moving away and leaned it to place a swift kiss on his lips. Paul moaned in surprise, his body tensing up briefly, before he melted into the kiss, his fingers tightening on John’s knee as his lips curled up in a smug smile. Even when their kiss broke, he continued to smile like that, looking straight into John’s eyes and breathing lightly onto his lips.

“What was that for?” He asked and John shrugged, not minding Paul smugness at all. So, the man knew what kind of an effect he had on him. He ought to be smug about that.

“Just hadn’t kissed you in a while. Thought it was time again.”  He said and Paul chuckled at that.

“You’re cute.” He noted and John pretended to be offended by that, even if that secretly made him feel a bit giddy on the inside.

“No, I’m not! How dare you suggest such a thing! I’m a tough teddy boy!”

“That you are, too.” Paul replied playfully, pulling John a bit closer by his knee and kissing him again, suckling lightly on the younger man’s tongue. John groaned at the suction, his own hand coming up to caress Paul’s chest. A loud voice called out from downstairs, interrupting their kiss, and both man groaned in frustration, but broke apart nonetheless.

“Paul! It’s almost four, luv! You promised your father you’d meet him at a quarter past so you could be here at half past four! You’re going to be late!” Julia called up, sounding both cheery and slightly stressed, probably feeling nervous about having Paul’s father over for dinner for the first time. John and Paul exchanged some promising glancing, wanting desperately to continue this some other time.

“Coming luv! Me and John are done here anyway!” Paul called back, and pulled away from John. He winked at him one last time, before he grabbed his guitar and went out. John sighed deeply and looked at the piece of paper on his knee. Paul had changed a few chords that had seemed out of place, but also a few that John had thought sounded fine. He quickly went over it and shook his head as he realised this indeed sounded better.

“Paul!” He shouted, “It works! Thanks!”

“Oh great! Let your mother hear it. I’m sure she’ll love it!” Paul shouted back, and John put his guitar aside and lay down on his back on the bed, over the warm spot Paul had left behind and listened as Paul and his mother talked over a few last thing for dinner while Paul put on his coat and shoes. When he heard the front door open and close, he let out another sigh.

          He actually wasn’t looking forward to dinner this evening. Finally, it was weekend, meaning he and Paul could have some time together alone, and then Paul’s father had to come over for dinner to ruin that. He knew that wasn’t completely fair, but that was how it felt at that moment. He sat up again, letting his head rest against the wall beneath his poster, and looked around the room, already feeling bored again. When his eyes landed on the closet, he grinned, knowing a very good way to get back at Paul.

John jumped up from his bed and moved over to the closet. He had moved them after his mother had told him she wanted to change his bedsheets so she wouldn’t find them. She rarely even touched his closet, so it was the best hiding place he had been able to think off. He opened the door and reached all the way inside his closet, to the back off it, where he found a stack full of underwear. He lifted the stack and right underneath it lay. A pair of lacy dark blue panties. Yes, this was going to be perfect.

***

During dinner, John knew he had to act innocent and be on his best behaviour so no one would expect anything. He had to be as subtle as possible, but clear enough to frustrate Paul to the point he’d snap. So far, John thought he was managing that just nicely. **  
**

Jim McCartney turned out to indeed have the same shapely eyebrows as his son, which amused John. Still, with the prospect of what would come if he handled this situation just right, it only took him about four minutes to get over the fact and he did not make a single comment on them. Jim McCartney was actually a nice man. He was getting old, but he was polite and seemed interested in the woman who had finally managed to make his son settle down. There were some very not-at-all subtle comments about their potential marriage, which embarrassed both Julia and Paul, but amused John immensely. He made a couple of stupid jokes that normally wouldn’t be funny, but everyone still laughed along to humour him.

What helped a lot was that music seemed to be something that just belonged in the McCartney family. He had had his own band when he had been younger and most of dinner they spoke about music. He even didn’t mind Rock ‘n Roll that much, although he much, much rather preferred jazz or classical music. That last reminded John of his own aunt Mimi, although she would have probably condemned his music taste anyway, because he liked jazz. Luckily, she wasn’t here.

Paul, however, wasn’t engaging as much in the conversation as he normally would. He mostly kept his head down and looked at the other end of the table to his father and Julia or at his plate, rather than John who was sitting opposite him. He had his legs tucked under his chair, as far away from John as possible, who occasionally would rub Paul’s leg with his foot rather sensually and wink at him whenever he looked up or eat his carrots very sensually indeed while his foot would snake up Paul’s leg and between his thighs, which he would then close very quickly and push John’s foot away. After about four times, Paul had moved his chair back slightly and was sitting with his legs crossed to keep John’s foot away from his crotch. Still, John hadn’t given up. Besides, doing this, Paul only let him know what he was doing was working, and it only urged John on.

“Paul? Are you feeling alright, luv? You’ve been quiet all evening.” Julia asked suddenly out of nowhere, interrupting Jim who had been asking John about his school. John was glad, because all the man’s questions were just making him nervous for his exams that were coming up. Why did old people always do that?

“W-what? Oh yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a bit weird.” Paul answered her with a careful smile, reaching over with his hand to hold hers. Julia smiled at the gesture and nodded. She turned to Jim, who was watching his son now, too, with a worried expression.

“Sleep deprived, that’s what you are, Paul. I swear, you have to sleep more. I know you’ve been busy, but sleep is important. You’re hand it all tense, too!” Julia noted, looking down at where Paul was tightly holding her hand. Paul immediately softened his grip and apologized.

“Are you sure, you’re alright, son? And if it’s true what I hear, I urgently suggest you’d sleep more. You remember what happened last time you had trouble sleeping, don’t you? You’re too much of a perfectionist for your own good,  I swear.” Jim said, his voice wavering slightly from old age. Paul looked up at him and smiled.

“I do, dad. I’ll watch it, okay? Now, let’s not talk about this any longer and enjoy the food, okay?”

“If you need to lie down…” Julia suggested, but Paul quickly butted in.

“I’m fine, Julia. I’ll go to bed EARly.” John giggled in his fist at Paul’s reaction. In his effort to try to make people belief he was fine, he had uncrossed his legs and now, John was lightly massaging his crotch with his foot, making Paul harden quickly at his ministration. The older man turned to him with a shocked expression and reached down with his hand to try to push John’s foot away, but he failed and John only winked at him as he licked his lips lusciously and pressed down with his foot.

“Yes, Paul. You’re looking a bit pale.” John noted as well, before taking another bite from a carrot, but not before sucking it lewdly into his mouth, watching as Paul’s eyes dilated. This was so much fun. The hard on in his own pants were totally worth it.

          After dinner, everyone apart from Paul and John had already forgotten the incident at the table. John had left Paul alone for most of the time, only touching him occasionally or flirting lightly to remind him and keep him interested. Julia suggested they should all go to the living room for coffee and tea, and Paul immediately volunteered to do the dishes. He’d meet them later as soon as he was finished. At first Julia didn’t like it, but when John volunteered to help, she agreed as long as they would hurry. Paul swallowed thickly, but couldn’t back down anymore and nodded, giving John a warning look. John, however, only smiled innocently.

Julia, Jim and Jules moved to the living room with tea and coffee and left John and Paul alone in the kitchen. Paul shut the door behind them and John leaned against the counter, grinning smugly as he watched Paul’s hands trembled. When Paul turned around, John opened his mouth to say something cheeky, but before he had the chance, Paul was on him already, and not in the way John had expected. His entire body was pressed against his, his hands held John’s head tightly in place, making him look up into his eyes, which were dilated and his lips were parted- he was breathing heavily. The sudden closeness made John speechless, but luckily he didn’t have to say anything, as Paul leaned down and captured John’s lips in a bruising kiss, pressing him further against the counters, making it impossible for John to move away. Not that John wanted.

He let Paul take control and gave everything he had to Paul. It was the least he could do after the trouble he had caused Paul. The older man’s lips were ruthless against his, pulling them apart and making John wonder if lips could turn blue if they were bruised badly enough. His hands on his head moved- one into his hair, pulling harshly, the other moved down to snake around John’s throat, holding him in place and making it hard for John to breath properly. Still he didn’t complain and gave Paul his everything. He growled in disappointment when Paul pulled away.

“Did you enjoy yourself, John?” He asked, or rather spat at him and John shuddered and nodded eagerly with a smile playing on his lips. He wanted to say something, but Paul wouldn’t let him. Instead, he kissed him again, prying his lips open with his tongue and invading his mouth, claiming him as his. John could only moan and lean into Paul’s body, enjoying the roughness, the desperation behind it. John had never even considered that being this submissive and letting yourself be manhandled could make a person feel so wanted. Every end of his nerves was on fire. He sucked in a breath, and his head was spinning as he could only taste Paul, who right at that moment forced his knee between his legs.

“We have to hurry.” Paul said and John nodded, opening his eyes and gasping as he saw the want and eagerness in Paul’s usually dreamy and soft eyes. He wanted to kiss him again, but Paul’s hand on his neck held him into place. Paul kissed him instead and John responded eagerly. The hand in his hair moved away and Paul’s fingers found the top of John’s jeans quickly. However, instead of unzipping him, like John had expected, Paul merely shoved his hand down John’s jeans. He gasped and groaned as his fingers graced over the lacy material and he had to pull back. John looked at him with a crooked eyebrow and a smug grin. Curious, Paul looked down at John’s crotch and removed his hand. He unzipped him and pulled his pants down to reveal what he had been hiding underneath. Paul’s breath stocked at the sight and the hand on John’s neck tightened briefly.

“Oh my lord…” He gasped and licked his lips hungrily.

“You like?” John asked, already knowing the answer, but Paul nodded anyway. Then he did what John hadn’t expected. He let go off his throat and dropped to his knees so his face was at the same height as John’s crotch. He let his hands run over John’s legs until the tips of his fingers reached the edge of the panties. He took in a deep breath and looked up at John as he let his hands run over them, cupping John’s erection in his hand and feeling how stretched the material was to accommodate him. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the material and nosed the shaft as he took in a deep breath. John groaned at the feeling and felt his own legs weaken.

“You like them, Paul?” John asked and got a mere animistic groan in response, “I wore them specially for you. Wanted to look pretty for you. Do I look pretty?”

“You look absolutely beautiful, John.” Paul mumbled, rubbing his face over the material, his tongue licking lightly at the panties, wetting them and tasting John’s pre-cum through them. John grabbed Paul’s shoulder for support as he looked down, his cheeks flushing at the sight of Paul kneeling before him, basically worshipping his cock. The power of seeing Paul like this, twenty-five years older than him and normally composed and responsible, looking absolutely hungry for him, was incredible. When Paul closed his wet mouth over his cock through the material and started lapping wetly with his tongue, he let out a weak cry.

“You like this, Paul? Sniffing and licking your stepson’s dick whilst your father is right there in the other room?” John said. He surprised himself, actually. Paul opened his eyes and glared at the younger man, but didn’t remove his mouth. “I bet you do. Fuck! You do, don’t you? Like seeing your stepson wear pretty lacy panties for you. Only for you.” John continued and Paul gave his cock a light nibble before he pulled off and grabbed John firmly by his arms and forced him to turn around. John shrieked at the sudden force, but let himself be manhandled into whatever position Paul wanted him. His plan was working out even better than he had imagined. Paul’s mouth fastened itself on John’s skin, where his neck met his shoulder and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. Just the thought made John cry out weakly, his cock twitching eagerly in his panties.

“Shut up, John.” Paul hissed at him, but it came out muffled by because of John’s shoulder. Still, John heard him perfectly well and shook his head.

“No.” He simply said and Paul growled in frustration, digging his hips in John’s lacy backside. “Fuck me. Please.” John whined at the feeling, pushing his arse out for Paul, who grabbed his wrists and placed in front of him on the counter to keep him in place as he started to unbuckle his pants with his free hand. John tried to control his breathing as he simply waited until he could feel Paul’s bare cock press against a lacy arse cheek.

“Please…” He moaned and Paul chuckled in his ear, but did as John asked. He pushed the panties aside and asked John to hand him the bottle of oil as he realised one wrist. John did as he was asked immediately and was rewarded with another hungry kiss- Paul nearly swallowed this tongue.

“Remember what I told you last time,” Paul whispered into John’s ear, who nodded, “just relax and bare down. It will make it easier. If you need some time, just tell me.” John nodded once more, his eyes falling close as he leaned forward and took a couple of deep breaths, but his body was already pliant under Paul’s hands.

Paul’s fingers felt rough, but well oiled up, as he felt them trace the rim. It felt less weird now, and honestly, John was too far done to feel nervous or scared. Besides, the memory of last time was far too good to feel anything other than anticipation. He gasped when one of Paul’s fingers slid into him, pushing his inner walls apart as he eased it in, rougher than last time. It didn’t hurt, but John knew the worst was still to come. He took a couple of deep breath and tried to relax for the other man. Soon another finger slid in along the first.

“Doing so well for me, John. So pretty you still look. Hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips bruised, panties covering your cock. Could look at you forever.” Paul whispered into his air and John shuddered at the praise, his rim giving way for Paul’s finger.

“Fuck, Paul… hurry… please.” John moaned back and he gasped when he felt Paul’s fingers brush against that place inside him. His prostate. He could feel Paul nod, and after that things went even farther. John could hardly keep up. Another finger entered and Paul started to scissor his fingers inside of John, opening him even wider and making the uncomfortable feeling ebb away. When John was fully relaxed, he pulled away. John swiftly reached into the pocket of his jeans and retrieved a condom. Paul didn’t even ask. He took it from him, ripped it open and quickly but carefully pulled it on. He added some extra oil, and lined himself up with John, who took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Just relax for me, luv.” Paul muttered and John did. Paul slid in with difficulty, but managed. The stretch was burning slightly, but nothing John couldn’t handle. If anything it only made it better. He bore down, like Paul had told him too and bit down his lip as he allowed Paul to enter him. Once Paul was all the way inside, he let out a deep breath.

Neither man said anything and after a few seconds, Paul began to move, earning a whine from John. When he halted again, John forced his own arse back, not wanting Paul to stop.

“Fuck… so good.” Paul groaned and began to move again. John nodded and turned his eyes and kiss Paul again. Paul knew right away what he needed and kissed him, slower this time, but not less dirty. He sucked at John’s tongue and nibbled lightly at John’s lips as he caressed his side with his hands and fucked slowly in and out of him, making John shudder against him.

After a few seconds, John began to move with him, urging him on with his own movements. Paul growled at the feeling and grabbed John’s hips tightly, guiding his movements, which made John moan, liking the dominance behind it.

“Shit… harder, please.” John cursed and Paul nodded, moving his lips to suckle at John’s earlobe as he fucked into John a bit harder, making him bump into the counters every other thrust. He realised John’s wrists and moved a hand down to touch John through the panties, making John gasp and thrust up into his hand.

“Fuck… oh d-daddy.” John moaned, the words rolling mindlessly over his lips. Only when Paul’s movements halted briefly, did he realise what he had said. He paled and for a second he couldn’t breath. But then Paul pushed back into him with one forceful thrust, making John almost gag at the force.

“Oh shit… John, don’t… ugh… don’t say that.” Paul groaned, screwing his eyes shut, but John knew what those words apparently did not only to him, but to Paul as well.

“Harder, daddy. Come on, fuck me. Fuck me while the other’s are only one room away from us, drinking fucking tea. Want you daddy. Want you so much. Want to look pretty for you in my panties and want you to fuck me as hard as you can. Please, daddy.” John moaned, pushing back on Paul’s cock and forcing him to fuck him harder and with every word that spilled over John’s lips, Paul’s thrust  grew more erratic and desperate. His nails dug into John’s skin and his fingers tightened over John’s erection, wanking him with firm, short movements. But Paul did as John asked. He sped up his movements and bit down at the red spot in John’s neck and he growled wantonly, his brain clouding as his orgasm approached.

John wasn’t far behind. Just the idea that they were doing /this/ with his mother, sister and Paul’s father in the next room would have been enough, but actually doing this and calling Paul “daddy”, spurring him on and simply taking what Paul gave him, made him near the edge quickly. He let his head hang down, watching Paul’s hand move over his panties to please him as he bit down his lip to keep his voice down at least a little. The older man’s movements became more and more desperate, his pace uneven.

“Daddy! I’m so close, daddy. Want to come.” John moaned softly and Paul nodded as he licked at the nasty spot in John’s neck. He sped up his movements even more and angled them ever so slightly so he hit John’s prostate as often as he could. He wanted John to come first, but after three more thrusts he couldn’t help himself any more. He turned John’s head to him and kissed him passionately as he came, burying himself deeply inside John and filling up the condom. John moaned at the feeling of Paul’s cock emptying itself, spasming and throbbing, pushing at his walls but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

          Once Paul was done, the older man quickly pulled out and tied up the condom, which he threw aside, before spinning John around and pushing him against the counters. John just let him, but watched with curiosity as Paul lowered himself on his knees again, still breathing heavily  from his exhausting and intense orgasm. He pried John’s panties down and looked up at him, locking eyes with him. He held the younger man’s gaze as he let John’s painfully throbbing cock slide into his mouth and down his throat. He began to suck almost right away, bobbing up and down and licking at the head to drive John slowly wild. The boy’s fingers tightened into Paul’s hair and urged him on, whispering praises, until he couldn’t hold back any longer and came into Paul’s mouth, letting Paul swallow everything, like he had done last time in the shower.

Paul suckled him clear and dry and kissed the tip, before tugging him back into the panties, which he kissed as well. Then he got to his feet, wobbling every so slightly, and cupped John cheek in his palm and kissed him gently, sweetly even, making John’s heart leap.

“You are going to kill me one of these days.” Paul sighed and John grinned at him.

“You’d better try to keep up. Daddy.” John replied with a wink and Paul reminded him not to call him that before kissing him again. John doubted that he meant it.

          John and Paul cleaned each other up and made each other look presentable again, before quickly doing the dishes, hurrying as they realised they had already spend fifteen minutes alone in the kitchen. Julia might come to check on them any second. As it happened, she did, but only after five minutes when John and Paul were almost done. Just one last pan. They promise her they’ll be with them soon with more tea and coffee. Julia rolls her eyes, muttering something about incapable men, and hurried back into the living room. John and Paul follow a few minutes after, with tea and coffee, like promised. Jim didn’t seemed to have minded their absence and quickly began to fill them in on the radio program they were listening too.

Paul tried not to give too much thought about what had happened with him and John in the kitchen. Not that  he had minded the sex (although he did wish John hadn’t been teasing him so much before it), but it was mostly what John had said and what it had done to him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. His mental absence seemed to annoy Julia, though, which she told him later that night as they were getting ready for bed.

“Julia, I’m sorry, alright. I guess I’m just a bit tired from work.” Paul tried, but Julia shook her head.

“It’s not like you have trouble doing anything with John together!” She shot back at him and Paul’s heart did something funny then. She didn’t know, did she?

“What are you talking about?” He asked, trying to sound unaffected. Julia scoffed at that.

“You’ve spend almost two hours with him, locked in his bedroom. I don’t even understand why that has to be locked in the first place, but it must be some weird guy-thing.” She said. Paul sighed and sat down on the bed besides her, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it sweetly.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asked, feeling this wasn’t really about his absent mindedness. Julia shrugged, but Paul wouldn’t have it. “Just tell me, please.” He asked and Julia gave in with a sigh.

“I just miss you, you know. I mean, I know you’re here all the time, but we never _do_ anything anymore. In the three months you’ve been living here we’ve only been out on a date once and I- I… I miss it.” She admitted and Paul nodded, feeling his heart sink. He knew he and Julia hadn’t been spending much alone time together, but he didn’t think she had been feeling that badly about it.

“It’s not even about me, really. I just wish we could do things _together_. As a family.”

“Julia, darling. I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know that was bothering you so much.” Paul apologized. He had been spending too much time with John. He had known that, but he should have realised how that would have been for Julia. He should have-

“Tell you what,” Paul said, sitting up and looking Julia in the eye, “first snowfall we have, and we’ll have a family day at the park. Ice-skating, snowball fights, hot chocolate, watching the kids play in the snow… snuggling and rolling around in the ice and pretending it’s a snowball fight.” Paul suggested, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, that made Julia laugh. Her eyes and expression softened and for the first time in a few weeks, Paul saw her as herself again. Happy and carefree. Loving.

“So, what do you say?” Paul asked, actually liking the idea very much himself. Julia grinned and nodded.

“I love you, you know that?” She asked, reaching up to run her fingers through his greying hair. Paul smiled back at her and let her as she leaned in to kiss him.


	14. Chapter 14

John stared at the blackboard a few meter in front of him with a blank expression, feeling completely numb. He did not understand a single thing the teacher was telling him. He didn’t even recognise half of what they were discussing. He was truly going to need Cynthia’s help. He could only hope she would.

The worst thing was that his classmates didn’t seem to have any trouble at all with the contents of this class. Most of them even seemed bored and looked like they could fall asleep any second now. Had John really not paid any attention in class? He must have picked something up right? If only he knew what it was.

Blaming Paul was, naturally, out of the question, even if he had made it more difficult for him to focus on his school work. Still, he had reminded John plenty of times he should do some school work, but everytime John had told him he had already done it and kissed him if he pressed on about it. It was his own stupid fault. He was such a fucking failure. He was going to fail this class, get kicked out of school- finally- and fail for the rest of his life as well. He’d probably either end up in jail or die in the gutter. Perhaps he’d even go completely insane. Great fucking lover he was for Paul!

John had started to call Paul and himself lovers in his head, just to make thinking that little bit easier. He knew it didn’t fit them that well, but he had not been able to find any other word for whatever they were, so this is what he went with. Besides, he liked the idea of him and Paul being lovers. Even if what they were doing was utterly fucked-up.

John pinched himself in the arm to get his attention back to the class. See? Now it was happening again! And Paul wasn’t even there! John let out a deep sigh and forced himself to pay attention to the rest of the class, sometimes rather painfully.

          When John came home he felt exhausted and his brain was fried. Never had he had so much information thrown at him in one day and tried to understand it and memorise it. Was this how Cynthia felt after a day of school? Because that would explain a lot.

He dropped his bag onto the floor with a tired groan and slipped off his gloves, scarf, coat and finally his shoes.  He knew he should get himself a cup of tea and go upstairs to do some catch up on almost all of his classes, but he simply felt too exhausted to do anything. He simply wanted to lay in bed, wank and play guitar. But if he did that then he’d feel stressed out all day tomorrow and not understand anything again. He had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, he readied himself to get to work. He could do this. He had to. John groaned at his own pathetic pep talk. Who was he kidding? He picked up his bag again, swung it over his shoulder and stumbled into his kitchen. No one was home yet. It was still early, only half past two and his sister was still at school herself and Julia and Paul at work. He had considered trying to see Paul again at his school, but had decided against it. He had to do this. And now it would be a shame if he didn’t, right?

Quickly, he made himself a cup of tea, making it extra milky and grabbed himself a cookie for some extra sugar. Maybe that would help. He forced his body up the stairs, groaning with every alternative step. Luckily no one was around. They could definitely say he was being overly dramatic. Which he was, but that was besides the point. He could not deal with any nagging right now.

His bedroom was as messy as he had left it that morning, meaning his mother had not come in to gather his dirty clothes. Even the towel he had used to dry himself off this morning was still lying on the floor. Deciding he could not work in this environment, he put his bag and tea aside and started gathering all his clothes and whatever else should be washed. He threw it all together into one large pile, which he then pushed out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom, where the hamper was. It was a heavy piles and John had to stop occasionally to put some lost clothes back on the pile. He was glad when he had finally reached the hamper. He just left it lying besides it.

Now, of course, he deserved a little break before starting on his school work. It wouldn’t do to sit there, all sweaty and with painful arms from the pushing, behind his desk. No, that would not work at all. He stumbled back into his room and lay down onto the bed, closing his eyes for only a brief time.

          In the end, John didn’t do much school work. He had read the first two chapters of his history book and written a short poem for his writing class which he should have handed in about two weeks ago- he hadn’t even know they had to write a stupid poem. He had just been about to continue reading, when his mother had called up for dinner (this was better than saying he had just spend half an hour staring into nothingness with his book open in front of him).

Downstairs, he sat down next to his sister, who was silently humming Christmas songs. John snorted at that. Christmas was still four weeks away! His exams, however, three weeks. She should be humming sad songs about death and despair and failure. That would have been much more fitting.

He looked up, only noticing now he had taken a seat in front of Paul. Out of habit, Paul tucked his legs underneath his chair, not wanting a repeat of what had happened a couple of days ago. Or at least, John guessed that was the reason. Not that Paul had any reason to worry. He was far to tired to try anything. He simply smiled at him with a little wink. Paul only smiled back and asked how school had been.

“Same old, same old. Students were annoying, teachers were annoying or just stupid and classes a killer for creativity.” John mumbled as he looked at his mother from the corner of his eyes, putting some of the last pots and pans on the table. John offered her his plate so she could serve it all. The other two followed his example and Paul didn’t ask any further. Instead, he seemed to study John, as if calculating something.

          About halfway through dinner did John find out what it was that had made Paul look at him like that. It was Julia who coughed to ask for attention. Her and Paul’s eyes locked and they gave each other an encouraging smile, before Julia spoke.

“I and Paul have an idea.” She said. John crooked an eyebrow, unsure if he liked where this was going. “How about we spend some time together after dinner? As a family?”

“And do what?” John asked immediately, before he had had the proper time to think about it. He got a warning look for Paul, which only puzzled John even more. He looked up at his mother and swallowed as he saw her face. She looked taken-aback and a bit hurt.

“We play games! Cards!” Paul said, helping Julia out. The woman turned her eyes on him and smiled as she nodded in agreement.

“Right,” She said, “what do you say?”

“I like it!” Jules said immediately, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. John guessed she was only excited because it would probably mean she’d go to bed later than normally. John himself wasn’t too sure, though, but agreed anyway. If it would please his mother and sister, why not. It wasn’t like he was going to do any more school work this evening. And he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, anyway. He could never sleep before half past ten the earliest.

“Oh fine.” He said with a sigh, secretly feeling relieved to have found a good excuse not to study for his exams.

          After dinner, Julia and John did the dishes as Paul and Jules set everything ready for their family evening. Paul felt relieved that John had agreed to playing with them. He knew it would make Julia happy and she deserved that. It was bad enough that he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend she probably thought he was. Of course Paul knew Julia wasn’t stupid. He and John had to be careful and things like these would make her happier and less suspicious. He didn’t want to loose her, however bad that might be. He still loved her, even if John started to take up a larger part in his heart.

He put on some water to boil for tea and asked Jules to get the pack of cards. It had been a while and he was actually looking forward to playing a card game. Last time, he and George had teamed up against some other guy, whom they had beaten easily and devastatingly. He couldn’t remember when that had happened though, but it had been a lot of fun, that was for sure.

He waited until the water was boiled, poured it in a teapot and let the tea steep for a few minutes, before carrying that one with a pair of mugs (Jules had already put down the other two) to the living room, where Jules was already waiting for him. He put down the tea and sat down on a chair next to her. He asked her to give him the card, which he shuffled swiftly with well-practised hands and began to explain the game to her. When she knew what she had to do, Julia and John came in as well and Julia sat down on the other side of her boyfriend, leaving John to take the seat before him. Their eyes locked and a flare of competitiveness  came over them, making them sit up a bit more and lean forward on their elbows as they continued to look into each other’s eyes with a slight grin playing on both their faces.

“So, think you can win from me, old man?” John teased, moving his feet forward to touch Paul’s lightly, making him jump in his seat. He quickly recomposed himself and only smiled back.

“I don’t think, John. I know.” He replied cleverly. Julia rolled her eyes at them however and took the stack of cards from Paul’s hands to shuffle them herself.

“If you men think this kind of behaviour is needed, I’d like you to think again.” She said, looking at Paul from the corner of her eye. Paul smiled at her with a cheeky wink, that made John’s stomach churl in jealousy.

“I’m still going to beat you, old man.” He hissed at Paul, smiling to make it seem like he wasn’t actually serious. Paul only wiggled his eyebrows, which made John break and giggle.

“We’ll see, luv.” Paul said and beckoned Julia to start dealing already. Julia gave the both of them one last warning look, saying it’s only meant to be friendly- no stupid games! She started to deal and the game began.

          Unlike what John had initially thought, the game actually turned out to be a lot of fun. To his surprise Paul actually was a good player and even his mother was far better than he had expected. Jules still needed a bit of help everyone in a while, but even managed to win once or twice, which no one, not even she herself, had expected. Winning turned out to be an actual challenge.

After the first game, they put up the radio to listen to some music as they played and Paul passed around some cigarettes for everyone except Jules. A game further, Julia went to get them all something to drink and John and Paul quickly switched some cards between them, making sure they would win. Julia never noticed anything and John had found it difficult not to burst out laughing. Especially because Jules actually did not seem to be that happy about them cheating like that. Still, she kept her mouth shut, even if it was hard for her to do.

It was only the third game that John won and he could feel Paul rub his foot with his own as he smiled at him, obviously proud of him for winning. John smiled back at him, pleased with himself, even if Paul had won the first two rounds. Then Julia won and after that it was Jules who cried out, saying she had won.

They had so much fun, John soon forgot the time and didn’t feel tired anymore. Adrenalin was pumping through him, being eager to win and prove himself to Paul. But when it was half past nine and time for Jules to go to bed, that’s when the real game started.

“Let’s spice this up.” Paul chuckled happily as he drank from his bottle of beer. His cheeks were flushed, indicating his slightly tipsy state. John was proud to note he, even though he was young, could handle his liquor far better than Paul could. He himself, wasn’t completely sober, either, though. He was sure that if he had been, he wouldn’t have said the next thing.

“How about strip poker? Could be fun!” He had said with a giggle. Julia gasped at the suggestion and told John off before disappearing upstairs again to make sure Jules was really in bed, asleep. When the door shut behind her, Paul leaned closer, breathing almost into his ear.

“How about a little bet instead? Nothing harmful, just for fun.” He said and John smiled broadly at that.

“Okay. How about this: If I win these next two rounds, you have to talk dirty to me while I masturbate in front of you.” John said and Paul frowned at that, but licked his lips in anticipation, being interested in that.

“W-why would you want that?” He asked, unsure about why John would want something like that. Why would he want to masturbate and listen to him talk if they could have sex together as one instead. John shrugged at the question, but knew fairly well what he wanted to say, even if he didn’t feel like it.

“You’re voice is just too perfect. If only you knew what you could do to me with it. I’d do anything if you ask me in the right way.” He explained and Paul flushed slightly, but it was almost invisible because his cheeks were already rather pink.

“Fine.” Paul agreed, the corners of his lips curling up in amusement and wonder about why John would share that so easily and so shamelessly. “But only if you wear your panties to your next gig if I win.” Paul said and John thought about it, but his cock already reacted to only the word “panties.”

“Okay,” John said,“ Let’s do it!” He offered Paul his hand, which the older man shook, sealing their deal right before Julia came back into the room and took her place again. Paul picked up his messy stack of cards and evened them out without too much thought, before starting to divide them amongst the people, where he belongs.

          “Shit! Fuck no!” John exclaimed as he stared at the cards on the table. There was no way he was able to beat that. He could see Paul grin at him, leaning back smugly in his chair as he picked his nails, cleaning them, pretending not to be upset about how close to triumph he was, hoping that John wouldn’t ruin his next hand. John threw down his cards on the table and right away Paul and Julia leaned forward to see what it said. It didn’t have much difference between his and Paul’s cards, but it was enough for Paul to win, allowing him to cry out jollily.

“Shit!” John groaned as Paul only started to smile more and more, enjoying the fact that he won, even if their hands weren’t that far apart.

“You know, John. You can just tell me when you’re going to do your little bet. It was, after all, all your idea.” Paul told him, snickering slightly. John glared at him, knowing he was going to have to do. He was going to have to wear a pair of lacy panties to school. Come to think of it, he still had to clean them. And it was really dirty, white stains all over them, completely unexplainable. Well, to his mother and sister at least. Paul would know very well what kinds of stains they are.

“Fuck off.” John mumbled softly, so only Paul could hear, who burst out laughing instead.

“Poor, Johnny. Don’t worry. You’ll get to beat me one of these days.” Paul replied with a wink, making people who are close enough to hear about him, all slightly different, but looking really lovely to eat. John glared at him, before turning away from him, giving him the cold shoulder, which only made him laugh.

“And don’t forget to wash them.” Paul reminded him softly, so Julia wouldn’t hear, before Julia exclaimed the game had been going on long enough. John agreed right away and hurried up the stairs as his cheeks began to burn at the thought of having to wear those panties to his next gig. Luckily, it was only in January when the next gig was scheduled. So, at least, he could prepare. Still, it was going to be hard, in more ways than one, regardless of the preparations he would make. But at least, Paul would like it, which made it just that little bit more worth it.

* * *

 

John was leaning against the wall as he waited for Cynthia, picking some dirt from underneath his nails. She still had class, but he could wait a little longer. It didn’t matter that his own would start in a few moments on the other side of the building. This was important enough to skip a class for. It wasn’t like he was actually going to miss something. He probably wouldn’t understand a word of it, anyway. Besides, how long could she be?

When the door finally opened, John let out a deep sigh and pushed himself off the wall. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and waited impatiently as students started to pour out of the classroom in one continuous wave. He had to stand on his toes and look carefully if he wanted to spot her in time. As soon as he caught sight of her- he’d recognise that head of … blond hair anywhere-  he reached for her, grabbing her firmly by her arm and pulling her out of the mass and besides him.

“John! W-what…? Why?” Cynthia asked, perplexed to suddenly find herself away from her friends and next to him. She looked up at him with a thoughtful frown, before quickly composing herself. Still, the frown of her brow remained. “Don’t you have class?” She asked and John flashed her a charming, Lennon grin.

“Can’t I simply pay some attention to the most beautiful girl in the whole of England?” He asked, expecting her to feel flustered, but instead she only rolled her eyes at him.

“What do you want now?” She asked, folding her arms before he chest. Of course she wouldn’t fall for that. She knows him too well. It was worth the shot, though. And it was amusing.

“Cyn, what kind of person do you think I am?” John asked, still grinning, but when she began to turn around to walk away from him, he quickly pulled her back to him. “I needed to ask you something!” He explained quickly. She couldn’t leave yet. She had to say “yes” to him first.

“And what might that be?”

“Can you tutor me?” Cynthia blinked a few times, her mouth falling open slightly, as if she couldn’t comprehend what he had just asked. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment before she burst out laughing.

“You must be joking?!”

“I’m not actually.” John said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. His eyes shot around in their sockets, looking around to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. He’d rather not have anyone know he was asking someone to tutor him. A girl at that. Cynthia stared at him, his brain working hard to understand what was happening.

“You’re asking for help? You?” She asked, an amused smile creeping onto her face, erasing the frown. John shrugged, not giving a real answer.

“I have to pass.” He simply said. Cynthia nodded, the answer seemingly sufficient.

“Alright,” she agreed, “but you’ll listen and work hard or I quit!” John quickly nodded and saluted her, making her laugh. She took him by his arm and started walking, dragging him with her. Where she was going, John didn’t know, but he didn’t mind.

“Let’s start tomorrow afternoon. Four-ish?” She suggested and John nodded. It was probably best to start as soon as possible, seeing how much he still had to catch up to. This was going to be hard, but at least he had Cynthia to help him through it. Knowing her, he should be fine.

          He didn’t have much time. It was already half past three and Cynthia would be at his door at four and he was locked in the bathroom, the sink filled with hot soapy water. He really should have done this sooner. It had been days since he had dressed up in this for Paul and the dried out cum was really hard to get off. But he had to do this if he was going to wear it during a goddamn gig. Damn Paul and his filthy imagination.

However, he couldn’t say he completely disliked the idea. He had liked wearing the panties, how they felt against his skin, all soft and tight. He had liked wearing them, feeling naughty doing something as taboo as that. And when Paul had found out and actually gone down onto his knees for him… that was the best. A sudden feeling of power, control. Feeling adored and loved, worshipped perhaps. It was odd, but so thrilling. And this time he’d be wearing them in public and Paul would know, frustration making his fingers twitch and his head dizzy. Yes, it was going to be worth it. But to do that, he first had to get them clean.

He held them under the hot water, gnawing at the inside of his lips with as he tried to ignore the heat of the water against his hands. He rubbed them, squeezed them, kneaded them, scratched at them with his nails, tried everything and slowly they became cleaner and cleaner. It was a dirty job. Every so many seconds he felt like he had to refresh the water, but refrained, knowing it wouldn’t make sense. The water was supposed to get dirty. It sort of was the idea.

After almost six minutes, his fingers began to protest and he simply let them soak for awhile as he towelled off his hands and studied himself in the mirror, remembering when he and Paul had kissed for the first time right there. Just a bit behind him. He cocked his head and recalled the scene, playing it in his head. He got so engrossed in his memory, he forgot the time. Only when there was a knock on the door, persistent and loud, did he open his eyes again.

“John! What are you doing in there! You’re not the only one living in this house, remember!” His mother called from behind the door. John groaned and looked down at the filthy water in which his panties drifted, looking obscene as he answered his mother.

“I’ll be out soon!” He called back at her and he could practically hear his mother roll her eyes at him. She knocked again before answering, as if she was talking through a walkie talkie.

“You better be!”

John sighed and fished out the panties, inspecting them. The soaking seemed to have helped. Most of the filth was gone now. There were only a few traces of white still, but most he could easily rub off now. He quickly pushed them back into the water and continued washing them, knowing he’d have to hurry up. When he heard his mother’s footsteps on the stairs again, he quickly let the sink drain and wrapped the wet, but now clean panties in a towel. He unlocked the door just in time. He smiled at her, and quickly hurried back to his room, the rolled up towel tucked under his arm, a telling blush on his cheeks.

          Cynthia was right on time, as always. She was never too late, and never too early- a skill John had thought to be a myth. Perhaps Cynthia was an actual goddess, a demigod, ruler of time. He chuckled at his own thoughts, closing his eyes to imagine it. She’d look stunning of course, and she’d have a cute man servant. That would be lovely.

“John!” Cynthia suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere, pulling John roughly out of his daydream.

“What?!” He asked, annoyed. He opened his eyes and sat up, only to meet her frustrated expression.

“Stop dozing off! This is important!”

“You say that about everything!” John complained, closing his eyes again dismissively. Cynthia hit him on his chest with her arm. Rather painfully, too.

“Because everything is! It’s all your fault. If you had just paid attention, you would know all of this already.” Cynthia scolded him. John groaned, but found himself unable to disagree. “You asked me to help you in the first place, so you either gonna listen, or I’m out of here and you can do it on your own.” Cynthia warned and John swallowed thickly, feeling his throat tighten in fear of that particular prospect. He nodded, his face looking grim. Cynthia, however, looked pleased with this result and continued her lesson.

He tried to listen and pay attention. He truly did, but every time she asked him a question, even a simple one, he couldn’t answer it. It was as if his brain actively refused to allow any information to enter. And it frustrated the hell out of John. He could never learn this! Why was he even bothering!

“Of course you can! You’re doing better already.” Cynthia said, but John didn’t believe her. He was a fucking idiot. Not a genius, but a madman. Fuck, they should just lock him up now before he does anything truly horrible.

“You’ve got to think positively.” Cynthia explained, sitting up a bit straighter as she turned a few pages in the book, going back to a previous chapter. John could rip that entire chapter out of the god forsaken book, eat it, shit it out and light it on fire before drowning the remaining ashes.

He glanced at his watch. They had been working for one and half hours already. His stomach was starting to growl, but Cynthia wouldn’t let him go until he had least had five answers correct. John could pull out his own hair and choke himself with it. This wasn’t helping him. When he asked how far they gotten and she replied they had gotten past a quarter of the assigned material, he felt like jumping out of a window.

“Let’s continue this tomorrow at school. I tell you John, you’re going to be fine if you just do what I say.” Cynthia said when she finally closed the books and slid them aside. John could weep of joy. However, his happy mood went away just as quickly when he heard just what doing what she said actually entailed. Homework. He couldn’t even do it for school, never mind for himself. Even now he lacked the motivation.

          As he watched Cynthia cycle off, he still felt uneasy. His body was tense and sensitive and his brain felt numb. He did not like this. But it was his own fault. His own stupid fault. The phone rang. His mother answered, frowning when John stood by the door a while longer, his forehead against the wood. John tried to listen to the conversation with the caller, but he couldn’t focus. He didn’t even realise it when they said goodbye.

“John?” his mother asked. John hummed to say he heard her, but didn’t move. “Would you mind picking up Paul? He forgot something important. Some kind of test or something, I assume. He needs it.” Julia asked and John looked up and turned around to her.

“Yeah. Sure.” He answered, smiling to hide his excitement. He needed to see Paul. Alone, preferably.

          Paul sighed and pushed back his chair before stretching himself out. The clock at the back of the classroom told him he still had one half hour to go before he could go home without any questions. He wondered how long Julia would be. He had called her a while ago so she should be here any moment now.  Of course had he had to forget the draft for the English exam on a Friday. For once he had been able to feel what his students felt whenever they forgot their papers they had to hand in.

There was a knock on the door and Paul looked up at it, already smiling. That must be Julia, he thought. He told her to come in and turned his chair into the direction, remaining seated, but trying to look sexy.

“John?” Paul asked, surprised to see the younger man emerge from behind the door. He smiled at him though, a cheeky grin, and Paul felt his throat get dry at just the sight of that.

“Hey, daddy.” John almost whispered as he stepped into the classroom and quickly closed to door behind him. He pulled the papers from behind his back and walked over to Paul, step by step, eyes locked on his.

“John-” Paul started as a warning, but found himself unable to continue that sentence. Who was he fooling? John calling him “daddy” just did things to him that he’d rather not admit to anyone. That didn’t mean he had to stop him from doing it. He took the paper from John as he offered them to him and placed them on the desk with a thank you, not looking away from him.

“I thought Julia would bring them?” He said, not sure what else to say. He hadn’t expected John to come over, so this really was a surprise. John didn’t reply to his words, though, and only stepped closer, until he stood right in front of Paul. Paul swallowed at the closeness, feeling the urge to pull the younger man even closer and simply kiss him already, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was at school. It wasn’t proper.

“So this is where you teach?” John asked, looking around the classroom as if  their closeness was perfectly normal. Paul smiled at him and shrugged, trying to keep up the same lie. John was teasing him again, he knew, waiting for Paul to snap like last time.

“I try to, at least.” He answered and John chuckled at that, looking back down at Paul. The older man ran a nervous hand through his hair, just so he had something to do.

“Want to teach me a lesson, professor?” John asked, grinning once more and winking at Paul. This time, Paul laughed, sitting up a bit more and trying to turn away from John with his chair to look at the papers John had brought him, trying to ignore the twitch in his pants at the suggestion.

“You’re horrible, John. Truly.” He said, but John didn’t laugh with him. He sighed and turned Paul’s chair back a little and started to crawl into his lap. Paul was too perplexed to stop him.

“John? What are you doing?” He asked. Another question John left unanswered. He merely started playing with Paul’s tie, tugging it from underneath Paul’s sweater to play with the knot. Paul looked from John’s eyes to his fingers and back again.

“You know…” John started, “I’ve been studying really hard today. With Cynthia. To pass all my classes.” Paul wasn’t sure why John was telling him this. Not whist he was sitting in his lap, doing things to his tie that Paul would much rather have him do to his cock instead. This was going the wrong way. He should not let John do this to him. They were in school, in his classroom, where he taught students of John’s age! He could have been a student. Paul wondered if that would have been better or worse. He regrettable decided it would in fact be better if John had been a student.

“I’ve been really good.” John continued, dragging out every single word as he spoke in a low breathy voice. Fuck Paul’s life. His hands moved on their own, coming up to lightly caress John’s thighs, which were on either side of his own, making John’s jeans stretch over his crotch, where Paul could see a slight bulge. “Don’t think a little reward would be fitting?” John asked. Paul stared at him, dumbfounded that John would actually suggest such a thing in his own classroom, where anyone could walk in.

“John, we can’t-” Paul started, but John quickly cut him off.

“Oh, come on. Not that again!” He groaned, but Paul still shook his head.

“We can’t do that here. Let’s just go home and-”

“But it would be so good, daddy.” John tried, winking at Paul as he watched his cheeks burn up. Paul cleared his throat and lightly started to push John off him.

“-and do it somewhere safe. Somewhere we won’t get caught and I won’t lose my job.” He continued.

“Come on, Paul. You’re being so boring.”

“And you’re being like a spoilt brat!” Paul shot back, and John rolled his eyes as he planted his hands on the back of Paul’s chair and hovered over him a bit more, pushing himself up and positioning himself right over Paul’s crotch, their lips only inches away. This was getting dangerous.

“John. We can’t.” He repeated.

“Oh, please, daddy? I need it.” John asked, but Paul flashed him a warning look.

“Don’t!” He merely warned. John opened his mouth to say something, but right at that moment there was some fumbling at the door. Both John and Paul froze on the spot and stared at the door with wide eyes.

          Someone knocked and a voice called out for Paul. The voice seemed to have done something to Paul, for he quickly pushed John off him and forced him to hide under his desk as he moved his chair to sit closely behind it, his legs spread wide to give John more room.

“Come in!” He called back, his voice slightly higher and more wavy than he would have liked. He could hear John chuckle under the desk so he gave him a light, warning kick. The chuckling stopped abruptly as the door opened. A rather plump little man walked through the door, a pair of thick-rimmed, round glasses on his nose.  He had a greyish moustache and his hair was thin and black, covering his hair only just, but he couldn’t have been older than fifty. He smiled a Paul and walked over to him, closing the door behind him. Paul took a deep breath and leaned over his desk a bit more, both elbows resting on the wood. If he’d catch John now, he really had some explaining to do.

“Ah! McCartney. There you are. I just had to ask you a little something.” The man sat as he sat himself down on one of the tables. His smile was exchanged for a frown when his eyes landed on Paul’s tie. “What happened to your tie?” He asked, pointing at it. Paul looked down and fought the urge to flush. He merely smiled and quickly fixed it back into place.

“I was hot, but the damn thing wouldn’t give. Anyway, what did you want to ask me Martin?” He asked, sitting up a bit more. He felt a hand on his knees, touching lightly, but curiously, and Paul gave John another warning little kick. The hand disappeared.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. How are you on the Friday before Christmas?” He asked and Paul grabbed his agenda to check.

“Nothing. Well, apart from that it’s the last day of school before the end of the year.” He replied and Martin smiled and nodded, his moustache wobbling as his lips moved. He always reminded Paul of one of his old teachers, who had always been jolly and in a good mood. He had always expected Martin to be the same.

“Good. We- me and some other teachers- were planning on organising to have some Christmas drinks after the last classed of the day. It won’t be much. Just a few Christmas songs, drinks and ciggies. Bring your girl if she fancies coming along!” Martin said and Paul actually liked the idea. He opened his mouth to say yes to the invitation, but only a little gasp went out as he suddenly felt a hand on his inner thigh, right below his crotch.

“Are you alright?” The other man asked, but Paul pretended everything was fine as he tried to kick John off again. This time, however, the boy was more persistent and the hands curiously wandered further up his thigh until his fingers brushed against his covered crotch.  

“Oh yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit hot, as I said. Anyway, I’d love to come. I’ll ask Julia what she thinks, but I’m sure she’d love to come too.” He said quickly and Martin looked relieved to hear that.

“Oh good! That’s grand. I’ll give you the time and place later. We have to ask the others first, but it’s great you would want to come.” The older man said and Paul only smiled, feeling like he’d let out another embarrassing sound if he tried to speak again. John’s fingers were bold, playing with him through the material and when his hands closed fully around him, Paul had to bite his tongue in order not to moan. Damn him.

“Okay. Well. That’s good. Yeah… I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. There are still some other people to ask.” Martin said and Paul waved it off.

“That’s fine.” He muttered, trying to kick John again, but missing every time. Martin nodded. “Oh, and could you pass this on to Harold? He’s been pestering me for it all day.” Paul said, feeling all the blood in his body flood downwards to his cock. He fought to urge to grab John by the back of his head and force him to lick him through his slacks. He gripped at the seat of the chair with one hand as he handed Martin the papers John had brought with his other. Martin said goodbye and wished Paul a good weekend, before walking out, finally leaving Paul and John alone again.

          Paul was furious and extremely aroused, which never was a good combination. He pushed his chair as far away from the desk as possible and grabbed John painfully by his shoulder. He pulled him roughly from underneath the desk and pushed him against it instead as he stood up. The boy only grinned at him. God, Paul wished he could wipe the smug expression off him.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Paul told him, his voice stern, but wavering slightly, still affected by the urge in his pants. John grinned even broader as he noticed too. “I would have gotten fired if anyone had caught us.”

“But no one did.” John reminded him and Paul didn’t know what to say to that, “Besides, you enjoyed it.” John nodded down at Paul’s crotch, where he clear bulge was visible.

“You know there’s an actual difference between getting aroused and enjoying it?”

“Yes, but this wasn’t one of those moments that happens.” John told him and all Paul could think to do at that moment was kissing him. So he did. John groaned as he was suddenly pressed even more against Paul’s desk, the rim of it digging into his back. Paul’s lips were demanding and urgent, his tongue wicked and forceful. Paul could feel the younger man shiver against him, his body giving into him. He licked open the boy’s mouth and licked across his teeth, his tongues and the inside of his cheek, licking him everywhere he could reach to taste him. John could only groan, his tongue trying to catch up, but failing. Finally, John pulled away to breathe.

“What’s in there?” He asked, nodding at a door on the other side of the classroom.

“Closet. There’s nothing in it. Just some paper and old exams and books and dictionaries.” Paul answered, before capturing John’s mouth again, his fingers grasping John’s jaw to force his mouth open.

“Fuck in there or on your desk?” John moaned, his hands coming up to grab Paul by his waist and pull him even closer, their crotches rubbing together. Paul was pleased to find John was just as hard. And god, he wished he could say yes. He wished he could just fuck John right there, across his desk, but they couldn’t. It was too risky. He should tell him they were going home and finish this there, but that seemed to far away. And Julia and Jules would be there.

“Closet.” Paul answered half-heartedly. John nodded and pushed himself off the tables and dragged Paul with him to the door. Their mouth stayed connected the entire time, breathing in each other’s air and sucking at each other’s tongues. Paul fumbled with the doorknob, and pushed the door open. It didn’t go that smoothly, as the door always got stuck, but they managed. He flicked the light switch and closed the door behind them.

They stopped for a few second, taking in each other as they realised they were alone for once. That they were going to do it right there in a closet in Paul’s classroom. God, this was raunchy. Paul loved it.

“What are you waiting for… professor?” John asked, licking his lips as he looked down at Paul’s crotch again. Paul chuckled, glad he wasn’t the only one taking pleasure in this role-playing thing they had going on. Paul lifted a hand on tangled his fingers into John’s soft locks, pulling lightly and manhandling him against one of the bare walls. He pushed some stuff to the side to make room for them, and placed his hands on the waistband of John’s jeans as he kissed him again passionately. John whined in his mouth, making Paul shudder. His fingers started fumbling with the zipper of John’s jeans and pulled them down, exposing John’s crotch and the top of his thighs.

“Lube?” Paul asked against John’s mouth, his voice breathy. John nodded and reached into the pocket of his trousers and retrieved a very small bottle of lube.

“I knew what I wanted.” John told him as Paul raised an eyebrow at that. Paul didn’t ask anymore questions. He pulled John’s trousers further down and allowed John to step out of them, before doing the same to his underwear. John started to blush at his own nakedness as he looked at Paul’s still entirely clothed body. When Paul started to take his own clothing off, he stopped him. Paul didn’t ask any questions and kissed him again as he caressed John’s thighs with his hands.

“I want you, professor. Couldn’t focus in your class because I couldn’t stop looking at your arse.” John spoke and Paul’s cock twitched again. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was too close to home. He _was_ an actual teacher. But he liked it nonetheless.

“Naughty.” Paul said as he took a hold of John’s cock, making the younger man tremble against him as he gasped out in pleasure. His hips started thrusting up into Paul’s hand as he started to move it up and down, stroking John.

“Only for you, sir.” John moaned, his hands coming down on Paul’s shoulder for support. Paul yanked his hair again one last time, before letting his hand slide down to lube up his fingers. They didn’t have much time. Julia would be waiting for them and anyone could walk into his classroom. He kicked John’s legs apart and moved his other hand behind John’s balls to his opening as he latched his mouth on John’s shoulder, sucking wetly. He probed carefully with his fingers, finding John’s opening easily. He circled the rim, wetting it, before slipping one finger inside.

John opened up prettily for him, his jaw falling open with a gasp of pleasure. John was completely relaxed and took him easily, his legs trembling to keep himself standing. It was so different from their first time, and Paul almost felt proud, knowing he had taught John this, helped him with this. He was glad he could give John the pleasure he had missed so much when he had done it himself.

He worked quickly, soon letting another finger slide in beside the first and kissing John to swallow his cries of pleasure. He wore a frown on his face, concentrating hard on relaxing himself and opening up for Paul.

“You’re doing good, John.” Paul whispered and John nodded, this time kissing Paul himself. Paul knew John probably still felt a bit uncomfortable, so he changed his angle, trying to find that spot. John spread his legs a little wider to give Paul more space to work in this position and Paul praised him again. He continued jerking him off in time with his fingers to keep John hard and wanting and soon he managed to hit John’s prostate.

“God… Oh god…” John moaned weakly, cocking his head back to lean it against the wall. Paul added a third fingers and massaged him on the inside for another minute, before he removed them. John shuddered at the feeling of being empty. His fingers tightened their hold on Paul’s shoulder, nails digging into his skin, though the two layers of clothing he was wearing. He grabbed John’s leg and wrapped it high around his waist, exposing John’s hole for him. John tried to hold on tightly as Paul took out his own cock and…

“Wh-why are you stopping?” John asked, breathless. Paul looked up at him.

“Change you didn’t forget a condom?” Paul asked and John flushed. He shook his head. Paul whined, his cock pulsing in his hand, eager to get inside. John bit his lip and took a deep breath, before he spoke.

“Do it without it,” he said, “It will be fine.” Paul knew he shouldn’t agree to that, but with feeling the way he was and with John looking like _that_ offering _that_ he found it difficult to say no. He nodded.

John took a deep breath and readied himself again as Paul pressed the head of his cock to John’s hole. It was twitching against him, fluttering and inviting him in. It felt different like this, skin to skin. Not better per se. Just different. He took a deep breath himself and closed his eyes as he began to push in. John opened up for him immediately. He felt hot against him, and the rim tight. John groaned at the feeling of slowly being filled up, feeling Paul press against his walls and Paul felt dizzy as his cock was slowly engulfed in that hot tightness. Fuck, this was worth it. He was certain that if anyone would catch them right now, he wouldn’t care. Once he felt his balls slap against John’s arse, he let out a shaky breath, which mixed with John’s.

He opened his eyes and stared into John’s as he held still, marvelling at the odd feeling of feeling John’s insides against the flesh of his cock. So different. John gave him a curt nod and Paul started to move, slowly pulling out, only to thrust in again. He repeated this move a few times, feeling how John started to relax more and more as pleasure began to form inside him, making it easier and easier for Paul to move.

They continued to stare in each other’s eyes as Paul fucked him. John breathed in time with Paul’s thrusts, gasping whenever Paul hit home and buried himself all way inside of him, hitting his prostate. Neither could look away as they started to simply enjoy the other, only making sure they weren’t being too loud. Not much left their mouths, though. Only raspy breaths and silent groans. Even when Paul began to speed up, John was almost completely silent, merely whimpering softly as his cock twitched in the other man’s hand.

The feeling combined with the thrill of doing this in a closet in Paul’s classroom, where anyone could find them, was making Paul dizzy and his cock throb. His orgasm approached quickly and he had to concentrate not to come before John had had his pleasure. John, however, wasn’t too far off either and without warning, he grabbed Paul’s head and forced their lips together as he cried out Paul’s name and came all over Paul’s hand, his body trembling and shaking forcefully against Paul’s, his nails digging into Paul’s skin.

John’s insides were milking Paul’s dick, contracting and pulsing and pulling him in deeper with every stripe of come that landed in his hand. The feeling was a lot more intense than normally and almost too much. But when John came down from his high and rotated his hips as he leaned down to suckle at one of Paul’s cum-stained fingers, did Paul lose it as well. He moaned and thrusted hard into John for one last time, coming deep inside of him and painting his insides white, marking him and claiming him. The feeling was too much and Paul had to press John even more against the wall to keep them both upright as he came. And then he laughed, caressing John’s face and kissing him.

“Next time, I’m going to take you on a bed and do it properly. The way you deserve.” Paul mumbled as he broke away and John smiled at the prospect, his leg pulling Paul even more against him, not wanting him to pull out just yet and keep him close.


	15. Chapter 15

Winter had now fully set in and John’s exams were only one week away. He still didn’t know shit, though. Which was, as always, entirely his own fault. John banged with his head against his desk, hoping to literally  smash the words into his head, but he only got a light headache in return. This week was going to be the death of him.

Outside it was grey and getting dark. The road and pavement were already slippery from the cold, wet nights, but there wasn’t a spot of white to be seen just yet. John wondered when Paul would be back with their Christmas tree. It was getting dark quickly these days and John couldn’t wait for the Christmas tree to finally be standing in the living room, beautifully decorated and  lit up with candles. Besides, if anyone would ask him to help set it up, he would have an excuse not to study anymore, and he really needed one.

As he stared out of the window, John finally saw Paul’s car pull up. There was a large Christmas tree tied on top and John watched with both curiosity and excitement as Paul parked the car, got out and started to get the tree down. It wasn’t long before his mother walked out to help him, wearing a pair of boots and a large coat which wasn’t hers but she had just thrown on. It was Paul’s actually. Of course it was. John continued to watch as Paul and his mother laughed together as they tried to get the tree safely from the roof of the car. It was a bit of a hassle and two times the tree nearly fell off it, which would have ruined it. Then, finally, after a couple of long minutes of mucking about, they managed to get the tree off the roof and started carrying it inside. By the time John had gotten downstairs, he had forgotten all about his exams.

“Need any help?” John asked, eager to get the Christmas spirit into the house. He couldn’t wait for Christmas. Paul and Julia looked up at him in surprise and neither answered him for a while, before Paul regained his voice again.

“Yeah, hold the end and close the door, would you? This thing is damn heavy.” He told him and John nodded, before doing as he was told. He could see his mother give Paul a surprised look, clearly impressed with him for getting John to do stuff. John didn’t care though. This was nothing in comparison to some other things he’d be more than willing to do for Paul. He grabbed the tree tightly and kicked the door closed with his foot. He gave a curt nod to say he was okay and carefully they began to move the tree to the living room.

          Getting the tree into the room was the hardest part. The hallway wasn’t particularly wide and it was hard to make that turn into the room with such a large tree as this one, but somehow they managed. The stumbled against some furniture as they moved through the room to the corner where the tree was supposed to go.  They had to turn a full 180 degrees to make sure the bottom of the tree was down. Carefully, they hoisted the tree up and put it in place, securing it and shaking it slightly to see if it would hold. In the end no one got hurt and when the tree stood upright and was completely stable, the three of them moved away to study their work.

“Oh, Paul! It’s a beautiful tree, dear.” Julia exclaimed and pulled him against her, kissing his cheek. Paul smiled smugly and let her as he continued to look at his work.

“It is rather pretty, isn’t it?” He said as he turned his head to kiss Julia properly on the lips, smiling against her skin as he did. John tried to fight the urge to make gagging noises. He managed, thankfully. Once the two pulled apart, John caught Paul’s eye for himself. They didn’t need to say anything at all.

“Well, I’m going to get Jules so she can help and make us some hot chocolate. Don’t start without us!” Julia told them as she straightened out her clothes and plucked some needles from the tree from her skirt.

“I promise, dear. We won’t.” Paul told her and started tugging some of the branches a bit more down and straight. Julia nodded and smiled at John, before quickly hurrying out of the room, leaving John a tad bit confused behind.

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s just glad you aren’t being a prick to me anymore. You know, Christmas spirit and cheer and happiness all around and all that.” Paul said to him as John told him. Still, the younger man wasn’t so sure. His mother hadn’t been doing great for the last few months and now every little thing about her made John feel nervous. What if she knew something? John decided not to share any of those worries with Paul. Not until he had more concrete proof, of which he had none at the moment. It was just a hunch. It would only cause for unnecessary stress and cautiousness and Paul was being cautious enough. Perhaps a bit too much for John’s liking. Paul sat down in one of the armchairs and patted the armrest for John to sit on. John smiled at him and did so, humming when Paul slid his hand under his shirt to rub his lower back.

          John had taken the armchair for himself now and watched from a small distance as Paul and his mother and sister hung all the decorations in the tree, giving them directions of what had to go where, enjoying how Paul would obey his every will at that moment. If only things were always that easy. Paul was looking handsome today, though. His hair was a bit fluffy due to the damp weather and he was wearing an ugly yellow and brown sweater vest that has never been fashionable, with a white shirt underneath and tight grey slacks, making his arse look even rounder than normally. John found it hard not to stare at him. The odd thing was, though, that the sweater vest actually looked really good on Paul. He wanted to move his hand underneath it and caress his naked skin while sucking on his bottom lip. John had to bite his own lip and look away from Paul to avoid getting hard. That would be embarrassing. He took a careful sip of his still hot chocolate, a moustache of cream appearing above his lip.

Slowly but surely, the Christmas tree began to take shape and the more decorations went into it, the more excited John got. Even his sister had started to notice and was looking at him weirdly as she hung up a tiny white bird from a string.

“You never were this happy about Christmas.” She noted and John tried not to be taken aback by that. It was true. He had always liked Christmas. The songs, the food, the decorations, even when they had to attend church. But it had never been like this. He had never felt this warm inside, or excited or anything really. Every time, Christmas had been a day of sadness as well. A reminder that he, unlike all the other kids, did not have a father. He remembered the fights his mother had had with other men on Christmas and days he had had to spend with Mimi instead of at home. Of course, when his uncle had been alive, that hadn’t been that bad, but… This year, however, things were different. The house was warm, he felt happy and cheerful, he had Paul, his mother was happy and his sister looking like her adorable self. Even the chocolate tasted better.

“What? I can’t be happy, can I?” John asked, grinning at his sister, who shook her head, but was still studying him closely, her eyes squinting at him.

“No. Just strange.” She replied and John winked at her, not knowing what else to say. From the corner of his eye he could see Paul looking at him, smiling too. John didn’t meet his eye however, and asked Jules to move one of the silvery balls three branches to the left. She rolled her eyes at him at that, but did it anyway.

          Once the tree was up, Paul let himself fall down onto the couch. John snickered at the sight when he started yawning and stretching himself out like a cat. He did look like a cat a little bit. If you could imagine the ears and whiskers. When he noticed John looking at him, he grinned at him, but didn’t move, being comfortable as he was.

“Paul! We still have to get the star on the top of it!” Jules cried, sounding as if she thought the world was ending. Paul turned to look at her and opened his arms for her, beckoning her into his arms.

“The star is in the bag.” Paul told her as he wrapped his arms around her, “Go ask your mother to help you. This is a tricky part. I need to watch from over here to see if everything goes well up there. Now… Let’s go.” He told her, kissing her temple, before pushing her back to the tree, where Julia was already waiting for her with the star in her hand. Jules took the star from her and climbed on top of a chair so she was a lot higher and could reach the top. Julia stood behind her, her hands ready to catch her if needed, but not touching her. Jules bit her tongue as she reached as high as she could. Her fingers could just grab the highest branch and she pulled it down a bit so she could place the star on top of it.

When the star sat securely on top, she squealed  and quickly jumped from the chair to look at it properly. She looked at the tree in awe, proud of how it turned out. Julia smiled at her and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a hug and bending down to kiss the top of her head. John, however, could only look at Paul, who was watching them with a gentle smile on his lips, his hazel eyes shimmering in the light of the Christmas tree. Yes, this was going to be a good Christmas. John knew it.

“Right. Now, I’m hungry.” Julia exclaimed, turning her head to look at Paul, who seemed to get what she was implying. He jumped up from his seat.

“Oh, alright! Alright! I’ll try to make dinner as quickly as possible, if that pleases you, madam.” He told her, walking over to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her in for a kiss. She, however, refused, pushing herself away from him.

“Ah ah! Not before I see some delicious food on the table.” She told him and Paul pouted at her, but she didn’t seem very affected and merely pushed him to the kitchen. John wouldn’t have minded kissing him instead. If she didn’t want to, he was more than glad to do it himself.

          As John waited for dinner, he remembered his books waiting for him upstairs. He tried to push the thought out of his mind and simply remained in the living room with his mother and sister, watching telly with them. He was a lost cause, anyway. The smell of Paul’s cooking was filling the air, making his stomach growl. He had been in the kitchen for some time and John wondered what he was cooking. His mother always made something special when they had put up the Christmas tree. As a sort of teaser for the real Christmas dinner. Judging by the smell, Paul was more than happy to continue that tradition.

Finally, after some time, they were called to dinner and John’s mouth started to water as he saw what Paul had made. They had steak with carrots and onions, drenched in gravy with roasted potatoes. A pudding was already on the table as well as a promise for what was coming for dessert. John couldn’t wait to dig in. Stuart and Cyn were going to be so jealous when he was going to tell them about this on Monday.

They all took their seats and complemented on the food. Julia had to stop both him and Jules from starting shoving the food inside before Paul had sat down as well. Paul winked at him when he saw he had managed to steal a potato, not minding at all. The older man finally got his kiss as he sat down next to Julia, although it was only on the cheek. John, feeling a bit mischievous, ran his foot up Paul’s leg again, watching with pleasure how he jumped in his seat, getting an old look from Julia. He blushed and glared at John, whose time it was now to wink. It wasn’t like Paul would actually become angry at him for doing something like that.

They ate quietly, listening to the radio playing in the background and softly talking too each other, but mostly simply enjoying the food. John tried not to eat too quickly and savour it, but it was hard to do. It was all simply too good. And then it was time for pudding, but John was already feeling full. Still, though, it was too good to pass up on, so he ate his pudding until he couldn’t anymore. He gave the last of his pudding to Paul, who was more than glad to finish it for him. John could only hope Christmas would be exactly like this. It would be even more perfect if he and Paul managed to get some time to themselves as well, but John had the feeling they would manage even that. For once in his life, things were good.

          Paul sat curled up together with Julia on the couch, her head resting on his chest as he played with her hair. She was completely relaxed, her body pliant under Paul’s touch as they drunk a glass of wine and listened to the radio. There was a comedy program on and John and Jules were there as well, wanting to listen to. Jules was sitting on the ground in front of them and John sat sprawled out in the armchair again, laughing heartily with every joke and occasionally reaching for Paul’s hand to play with his fingers. It was almost as if it was Christmas already. Things were surprisingly perfect for how fucked-up their situation was and even John didn’t seem to bothered with how close he was to Julia. Still, Paul would have liked it even better if John had been lying on top of him and if it had been John’s hair he could play with. He liked his Elvis hairdo, but he liked seeing it messed up even more.

He was glad he could give this to Julia, though. Ever since she had told him she missed him, he had made sure to give her more attention and not run to John every chance he got. It was difficult at times, but he managed and Julia had seemed happier. Especially now, she looked perfectly at peace. But that might have had something to do with the food. They had eaten a lot. John hadn’t even managed to finish his dessert. Not that Paul minded. More pudding for him!

As the radio program was interrupted by a couple of commercials, Julia moved to sit up, leaving Paul’s chest cold. He whined in protest, but Julia only ignored him and rubbed her eyes.

“Jules?” She asked. The girl looked up at her with wide eyes, already knowing what her mother was going to tell her. “Come on. Time for bed, luv.” Julia told her sweetly with a smile, but Jules didn’t buy it.

“Ah no! Please, mum. Can’t I stay up a bit longer! I want to hear the rest of it!” She pleaded, but Julia shook her head and got up from the couch to stretch herself out. She yawned, before offering her daughter her hand.

“Come on, Julia. You’ve already stayed up later than normally.”

“Oh please! Just another fifteen minutes!” Jules tried again, but Julia shook her head.

“No. Now, let’s go upstairs, yeah?” She asked again, her voice sounding a bit more serious and Jules sighed, but gave into her. She knew fully well when her mother could and could not be persuaded otherwise. She took her mother’s hand and stood up from the ground, the pillow she had been leaning against falling down. Paul grabbed it and placed it behind his head for a bit more comfort. Jules gave him a goodnight kiss and asked one of John as well, which she got, before she followed her mother.

“I think I’m going to bed too, Paul. You can finish if you want. I’ll see you upstairs, okay?” Julia asked and Paul nodded, before she went out and up the stairs.  As soon as they had left, John got up and went to sit besides Paul, taking his mother’s place. Paul hadn’t expected any differently, and simply wrapped his arms around the younger boy and looked down at him. John looked up at Paul from his chest and smiled at him.

“I thought you had studying to do?” Paul asked and John blinked a few times at him, not having expected that, before shrugging.

“I’d much rather lay here for a bit.” He said and Paul chuckled at that, moving his fingers into John’s hair to play with like he had wanted. John moaned at that touch and leaned into him, his eyes fluttering close.

“You’re really quite beautiful, you know that.” Paul muttered as he stared at John, being unable to look away. John’s body was warm against his and they slotted together perfectly, John’s legs besides Paul’s, touching but no entangled. For some reason it was better. John creaked open an eye at Paul’s words and snickered.

“Beautiful?” He asked, amused. Paul, however, was completely serious. He nodded and pushed John’s hair backwards, out of his face. The smile disappeared from John’s face, and for a few moments they said nothing. They only looked at each other, taking in each other’s features, wanting to memorise every detail. Then, John reached up and lightly placed his lips against Paul’s, kissing him gently.

“If I’m beautiful, then I wouldn’t know how to describe you. With your perfect eyebrows, irresistible doe eyes and plump, inviting lips. And you’re cute chubby cheeks.” John muttered, his cheeks reddening adorably at his own words. This time, it was Paul’s turn to kiss him, so he did, more passionately this time. He moved his lips gently against John’s, his tongue peeking out to lick between John’s thin lips, begging for entrance. John groaned and gave into him, melting against him as his lips parted, allowing Paul inside. Paul’s hands moved around John’s waist, holding him closely against him, keeping him from moving away, just in case.

The program began again and they broke apart with a sigh, both wondering if they should continue or listen to the radio instead. John laid his head on Paul’s shoulder and breathed against his neck as he listened to the radio, so Paul did the same, keeping an arm around John’s waist to keep him close and hold him, as he listened  as well. Slowly, he felt himself getting tired as well. They had had a busy day and after all that food and that wonderful glass of red, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He closed them, only for a second, but when he looked at John and saw he had fallen asleep as well, he gave into it.

          Paul wasn’t certain how long he had been asleep. It was dark in the living room and although the radio was still on, but all he could hear was static noise. He groaned and let his eyes fall close again, a smile appearing on his lips as he realised John was still curled up besides him, fast asleep. Paul knew he should wake him up. They couldn’t sleep on the couch and Julia was upstairs waiting for him. Only, he couldn’t bring his limbs to move. And if he had been able, he was certain he hadn’t been able to wake John. Not when he was sleeping so soundly, his breath ghosting lightly over the skin of Paul’s neck, a hand grasping his sweater vest. He looked adorable. If he could call an eighteen-year-old “adorable”.

Sighing, Paul tightened his grip of John, enjoying the warmth of his body against his, keeping him safe and warm. Perhaps they could lay here just a bit longer. Just a little while. Yes. Just a little while. Paul yawned and turned his face away from John, and shuffled down a bit to lay a bit more comfortable, moving carefully in order not to wake John. He hummed and smiled, reminding himself to keep awake. He tried to open his eyes again, but his eyelids fell close almost immediately. He tried a few more times. The room was turning when he opened his eyes for too long and everything was vague. God, he was tired.

He let out one last yawn and leaned against John a bit more, as he opened his eyes again. This time it went easier, and the room wasn’t moving any more. Still, he could hardly focus and everything he could saw was nothing more than a few shimmers. Then, he saw something move. It was too dark to see, and he couldn’t make out what it was. He blinked a few times, and then finally, he saw it. A flash of red, long, curly hair, disappearing quietly within not even a second, leaving Paul to doubt if he had really seen it. Before his mind could work out what it had been, his eyelids fells close again and sleep took over his body again, taking him away.

When he woke up again, this time by John’s soft voice and poking fingers, he had already forgotten he had seen it.

* * *

 

It was finally Christmas. It had snowed for the entire week and the streets were covered with a fat layer of the white stuff, making it a lot of fun to walk in and great for making snow angels and snowmen. And it did make for great sledding weather, which was great, as Jules had gotten just that for Christmas that morning: a sledge. She hadn’t been able to stop jumping up and down after she had unpacked it and had been begging for a full hour to go to the park, even after both Paul and Julia had told her they would after the first five minutes.

It had never been this busy in the park on a Wednesday morning. Children were running around, throwing snowballs at each other and creeping up on the adults to take them by surprise, forcing them to join their game. People of about John’s age were sitting closely together on benches, curled up in each other’s arms to shield them from the cold and they laughed and joked around and occasionally kissed. John watched them with envy, wishing he could do the same. But his special person was sitting on a sledge with his little sister, going down a hill at a fast speed as his mother cheered for them and took photos. John cheered along, if only to please his sister, who looked like she was having the time of her life.

They had just gotten back from Church, which had turned out to be the most awkward and dullest thing in his life. The guy hadn’t stopped talking for 2 hours straight and the only breaks there had been, had been the singing of Christmas carols about how great God was and how we should all love Jesus, our one true king. Yeah, John wasn’t very fond of religion, but the fact that he had been sitting next to his mother’s 42-year-old boyfriend, with whom he was having sex on regular basis, didn’t make things any better. He had barely been able to contain his giggling, which had caused him some angry glanced from some old ladies in the row before him.

John didn’t know why they still went to church. He knew his mother wasn’t very religious and neither was his sister. He had never heard Paul about either, so what was the big deal? They never went to Church on any of the other days. The only reason John would go to a church was because of some gig. But at least, he was free now and his mother had seemed to appreciate them going to Church like a proper family.

She had been acting a bit odd lately. John had noticed her looking at him and Paul a bit more often, as if she was keeping an eye on them. It made him nervous and he hadn’t a clue what had made her do this. She also spend much more time by Paul’s side, always making sure to sit next to him or go on walks in the evening so they would be alone. It was weird and it worried John slightly. But now, she looked happy and carefree, so John hoped that was now over as well.

          “John! John!” He turned his head to look up the hill where he saw Paul waving at him with both hands above his head as he called out his name. Once he had gotten his attention, he pointed at the sledge, where Jules was ready to go again. “Jules wants to go with you!” Paul shouted at him, making John grimace. He wasn’t that fond of sledging, if he was completely honest. He hadn’t done it since he was a kid either.

“Oh yes, John! Go with your sister. It will make a lovely picture.” his mother said next to him, pushing him into the right direction. John sighed overly dramatically as he began to make his way up the slope until he reached the top, where Paul was waiting for him with a happy grin on his face. His cheeks were flushed a bright pink from the cold, even though he had wrapped himself up almost entirely. He wore a woollen coat, which looked both very comfortable and warm, with black leather gloves and a large scarf wrapped all around his neck, even covering his mouth slightly. On his head he wore a warm woollen hat with a little ball on the top. John himself was wearing a leather jacket with gloves and Paul’s scarf, which he still had from the last time he had worn it when Paul had given it to him. Pitifully, Paul hadn’t commented on it, but John knew he had noticed. He could see it in his eyes.

“Ready, John?” the man asked and John nodded as he took a seat behind Jules, wrapping his arms around her to hold her closely against him. The sledge was a lot larger than he had thought, although it was a bit of a hassle to try to figure out what to do with his long legs. But once he was fully seated, he was actually rather secure and comfortable. For a wooden sledge, that is.

“Push! Push! Push! Push!” Jules started chanting, growing impatient.

“Alright! Alright! Hold on tight!” Paul warned them with an excited laugh. He grabbed the sledge with both hands and started to run towards the edge of the hill as fast as he could. The sledge was gradually picking up speed and John could feel the cold wind run through his hair, making his cheeks and ears grow even colder. He cried out when Paul gave them one last push and practically threw them from the hill. Jules shrieked excitedly and held on tightly as she laughed merrily. John held on tightly, making sure to keep Jules save as he watched them descend the hill at a speed that was much faster than he had initially thought. Snow was jumping up next to them, wetting them and making their legs almost completely white. John could see his mother clicking away with the camera, trying to capture the moment, but he couldn’t smile.

“Oh! Oh no!” Jules suddenly screamed, making John look in front of them again and he paled as he saw a large snowman right before them. They were heading for it with such great speed they wouldn’t be able to stop the sledge in time. John tightened his grip on his sister and held her tightly as he closed his eyes and got ready for the hit. They hit the snowman with a thud and the sledge fell onto its side as he slid along a bit further without them, disappearing right underneath their buttocks as they were held back by the snowman. They fell onto the ground with a groan and immediately John could hear a little girl start crying as her work was destroyed. Still, he was a bit too shocked and a little too wet and cold to care much.

John pushed as much of the snow off them as he could and helped Jules sit up. She was laughing hysterically as John sat her down onto the snow, before crawling back onto his  own feet. He was completely covered in snow. It was even in his hair and it clung to his face almost painfully. Water was in his shoes and his trousers were completely soaked through. Paul and Julia came rushing over to them, looking unsure of whether to laugh to to be worried. John had just started to wipe some of the snow from his sister, when his mother reached them and did it for him, telling him to take care of himself. Paul was there five seconds later and checked on Jules, before helping John, who was now shivering from the cold.

“Are you alright?” Paul asked, sounding genuinely worried. John nodded as he tried to wipe all the snow out of his neck.

“Yeah,” He said, shivering, “Just really cold and wet.”

“Right. I think we need to go home and get you into some warm clothes before you catch a cold. I don’t know how you did it, but you’re completely covered in the stuff. Drenched to the bone.” Paul muttered, turning John around roughly to do his back for him. John simply let him, grinning smugly as he enjoyed Paul’s rough touch. Julia looked up at them and bit her lip as she thought about it. Finally, she sighed and nodded.

“I guess you’re right. Come on, Jules. Get the sledge. We’re going home.” she said.

“But mum-”

“He needs to get into some warm clothes, honey, or he’ll catch a cold. We’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” Julia explained, but Jules didn’t seem to agree. She pouted and folded her arms angrily over her chest. John hummed at the idea of a long hot shower to warm up his bones. Perhaps a nice warm cup of tea or coffee?

“I’ll take John home. Then you two can stay a bit longer. It’s too early to leave yet and Jules is having so much fun. It’d be unfair to her.” Paul suggested and John smiled broadly at the prospect of being alone with Paul again. He and Paul had had sex just last night in John’s bed, but those times weren’t as great. They had to be quiet and Paul could never stay too long. Perhaps now they would have more time to be themselves. To be more vocal. John loved it when Paul got vocal.

“I don’t know… Don’t you want to-” Julia tried, biting her lip thoughtfully, but Paul shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll make sure there’ll be hot chocolate when you get back and get started on dinner, okay? The ham needs to be prepared and has to go into the oven for a while anyway.” he said quickly and Julia gave in with a sigh, sounding like she wasn’t happy with the idea, but couldn’t come up with an excuse for Paul not to go. Paul helped her back on her feet and kissed her sweetly, stroking her long hair, before pulling away with a smile.

“I love you, okay?” he told her and Julia nodded with a smile. Paul nodded back and tapped John’s shoulder to say he needed to come with him, before walking over to the bench were their things stood.

“Come on, John. Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” he suggested and John nodded eagerly as he waved goodbye to his mother and sister and followed Paul as they started to make their way home.

          Paul had his arm around John’s shoulder as they walked back home. It was still a bit of a walk and John was still shivering from the cold, the freezing temperatures not doing any good to him now. John let him, though, enjoying the warmth that radiated off his arm and leaned into him as he listened to Paul softly singing Christmas songs.

“God dammit. I wish I had a voice like yours.” John muttered with a sigh as Paul finished up his own version of The Christmas Song. Paul looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, making John snort.  "Come on,“ he said, "as if you don’t know you’re voice is amazing. You can do so much with it and it always sound wonderful. I sound like a cat getting slaughtered compared to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Paul told him sternly, squeezing his shoulder, “I really like your voice.”

“No, you don’t. You’re only saying that. You’re voice is so smooth and tantalising, you could woo anyone until they’d cream their pants.” John mumbled, blushing slightly as he remembered how Paul’s voice could affect him at times. During sex, but also just whenever. Paul didn’t say anything to that, however, and merely sang another Christmas song as John listened silently, enjoying the smooth, honey-like sound that filled his ears.

          When they walked past the cemetery, he stopped, interrupting the other man.

“Let’s go through there,” he suggested, pointing at the gate which lead inside, “It’s much shorter that way. Gives us more time.” He winked at Paul, who chuckled and nodded. They walked into the cemetery, both surprised when they realised there were quite a few people there.

“Don’t you sometimes wonder where all those people come from?” John asked, untangling himself from Paul’s grasp. Paul smiled sadly at him.

“There are lots of lonely people in the world, John, especially during Christmas.” he told him. John hummed and nodded in understanding. He looked at the names on the gravestones as they walked among them in silence, not wanting to be rude to the people who were mourning their lost loved ones.

“Is your mother buried here?” John asked after a while, whispering. Paul looked up at him in surprise. It took him a while to answer, not having expected the question. John frowned when Paul shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said and went on explaining, “My mother… she… she died when I was fourteen. I was too upset to be able to attend to funeral, or so my family thought, so me and my brother had to stay at home. They never told us where they buried her, either. Not even when we were older.”

“That’s horrible.” John remarked and Paul smiled at his reaction.

“I’ve never been that bothered by it. I searched for course, but what would happen if I found her? She was dead. What could a cold stone slab do for me?”

“But don’t you want to visit her?” John asked, intrigued. Paul smiled again, unsure of what to say.  "Let’s go search for her. She must be buried here, right? It’s one of the few cemeteries in Liverpool!“ John exclaimed and Paul nodded.

"That’s true. Alright. Let’s just see if we can.” he agreed and John smiled at him excitedly as he hurried along the gravestones, checking every name that was carved in stone as they walked closer and closer to the other end of the cemetery.

          After a good fifteen minutes of looking, they came to the end of the cemetery and decided to give up. They had checked nearly every single stone, but neither had found Mary McCartney anywhere. Paul sighed in defeat as he looked up at the sky with a soft smile on his lips. John came over to him from the last stone and nudged his shoulder with his own.

“I’m sorry.” he said softly. Paul looked down at him with that same smile and shook his head.

“It’s fine. I didn’t think we’d find her anyway.” he said and John nodded that, but still seemed a bit sad about the whole thing. Paul looked around him quickly, checking if there was anyone around, before kissing John briefly. “Let’s go home, okay?” he asked and John nodded.

“I wished we had found her, you know. Would have been a good Christmas present.” He sighed as they started to walk further home. Their house was only about ten minutes away and John was looking forward to finally be home. He was still cold and was glad when Paul’s arm found his shoulder again. They walked in a comfortable silence for the rest of the way.

          When John stepped into the house, he felt as if a warm blanket had been thrown around him. He was still shivering, but he felt his body relax as it slowly warmed up. Paul helped him out of his coat and shoes as John took off his gloves and scarf. He could see Paul looking at the last, but he didn’t say anything as John merely hung it on a peg with his coat. When Paul had taken off John’s shoes and rose to his feet again, John wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for kiss, making Paul chuckle.

“Alright. Let’s get you all warmed up first, yeah?” he said as he pulled away from John. The younger man merely grinned at him.

“Oh, I know many other ways you could warm me up.” He said suggestively with a wiggle of his eyebrow. Paul merely shot him a look and shook his head.

“Shower first. Then some hot chocolate and after that we shall see what happens.” He said and when John pouted at him and tried kissing him again, he pulled completely away from John and grabbed his shoulder to push him towards the stairs.

“Maybe you should join me. To check if I’m really warming up.” John tried once more as he let Paul manhandle him up the stairs.

“No, John. Now, go upstairs. The sooner you’re back the more time we have left once you’re all warm and happy again.” This seemed to get John going and without another word he rushed up the stairs, now eager to take a shower. And after all, a warm shower wasn’t too bad.

Still, John couldn’t help but leave the door of the bathroom slightly ajar as he stepped underneath the shower in the hope Paul would change his mind and join him anyway. He hummed as the hot water hit his shoulders and warmed up his body. Slowly, he regained feeling in his toes and fingertips and he soon he stopped shivering. He hummed as he washed his hair with Paul’s shampoo, just because it smelled of him, and massaged his scalp with his fingertips. After a while, he didn’t want to get out of the shower anymore, until he remembered Paul was waiting for him downstairs and that they were alone.

A little disappointed that Paul hadn’t joined him in the shower, John rinsed the last of the soap off his body and turned off the shower. He quickly dried himself and tried to dry his hair the best he could. Once he had finished he it was still damp and it hung sluggishly down from his head. He tried to fix it, but nothing would hold, so after a few more minutes he gave up and quickly got dressed again. A simple pair of black jeans with a red button down shirt. A bit fancy, but you know, it was Christmas.

He could hear Paul play piano, as he descended the stairs. Christmas songs, of course, but John didn’t mind. It was sort of adorable how much Paul seemed to like the Christmas songs this time of year. As he walked into the living room, Paul looked up at him with a smile and nodded at the top of the piano where John saw a mug of hot chocolate. He didn’t even stop playing and John listened quietly as he took one of the mugs and drank the warm drink as he leaned onto the piano, watching as Paul’s talented fingers slid along the ivory keys, playing them just right and making it seem to damn effortless. He wished he could play piano like Paul. Seeing him play like this, made him feel strangely competitive.

          Paul glanced at John from the corner of his eye every once in a while as he continued to play a whole range of Christmas songs, only occasionally singing along. They boy had regained his normal colour again and his cheeks were even a little rosy, which made him look really adorable, especially with his still slightly damp hair. When their eyes met, his fingers missed and hit the wrong key. Paul smiled nervously at him and swallowed as John finished his chocolate and put it aside on the coffee table next to Paul’s empty mug. When John came back, however, he didn’t lean onto the piano again, or took a seat next to Paul. No, instead, he moved to sit on top of the piano, shuffled over in front of Paul, placing his feet on either side of the older man as the piano groaned under his weight and all kinds of keys were pressed, making a terrible sound as Paul mindlessly continued to play. He watched John with surprise, unsure of what to do next, as the younger man leaned forward and took his head in his hands to kiss him. The older man melted into him right away, not knowing what else he _could_ do.

“John,” he said as their lips parted, “piano’s aren’t really made to sit on.” John chuckled at that, but didn’t pull away or made any indication that he was going to move.

“I wasn’t really planning on merely sitting on it, though.” He whispered and Paul flushed as he realised what John was implying. He knew he should pull away and not give into John, having no idea when Jules or Julia would be getting home. They had grown reckless and this was exactly one of those examples. But when John took Paul’s hand from the piano and laid it in his lap, right on top of his growing erection, he couldn’t think straight anymore. He raised onto his feet, shoving the piano stool back and out of the way as he grabbed John’s legs and pushed them further apart so he could stand between them. John moaned as Paul attacked his mouth with his own, nudging his lips apart with his tongue.

“Fuck, Paul…” John moaned against Paul’s lips as the older man licked along his teeth, tasting him. Paul snickered softly, his hands coming up and tangling into John’s wet hair. He pulled lightly, making the younger moan into his mouth again.

“You asked for this, John.” Paul muttered as his lips moved from John to suckle on his neck instead, teeth playing lightly with his skin.

“Oh fuck. Yes, I did. Please… Daddy.” John moaned, wrapping his legs around Paul to press him against him, feeling his hard on against his own. Paul groaned against his throat.

“You really ought to stop calling me that during sex.” He told him with a breathy sigh moan as he began to rut against John, rubbing their crotches together. John shook his head.

“I really rather not.” He replied weakly, cocking his head to the side to allow Paul more room to work as his own hands moved down Paul’s body and to his belt buckle, desperately wanting to unbuckle it. When he started to do it, however, Paul stopped him, taking his hands off him and planting them onto the piano keys, filling the air with an horrible combination of notes.

“You first.” Paul breathed heavily, moving to sit back down on his stool as his fingers moved down to take John’s trousers off. John merely let him, grinning to himself as he held onto the piano, wanting to please Paul, make him happy.

“Please, daddy, fuck me on the piano. Please.” He begged dirtily, enjoying the way his words seemed to affect Paul, spur him on and make him stand erect in his pants. Paul growled as a reply and practically ripped John’s trousers open, feeling impatient. John raised his bum off the piano so Paul could pull his trousers down and Paul did. As soon as the cold air caressed John’s heated cock, Paul wrapped his fingers around the base and stroked him twice before leaning in, taking him into his mouth and letting him slide down his throat in one go.

“Oh! Oh shit!” John groaned, raising one hand to bite down his fist as he slumped against the wall, going slack under Paul’s ministrations. Paul grinned around John as he started to suck, bobbing up and down in a rapid speed that drove John slowly mad and swallowing around him. John’s other hand found its way into Paul’s hair. He tugged hard and Paul complied by closing his eyes and taking John down to the hilt, holding him in his throat, until his eyes started to water, feeling how John’s cock stretched his throat. When he started to gag, he pulled off.

“Lube?” He asked, staring at John as he realised how debauched the younger man already looked and he hadn’t even fucked him yet. Sprawled out on the piano, lips red and puffy, hair a mess, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, clothes rumpled and so needy. The boy didn’t seem to understand what he was asking at first, until, finally, he shook his head.

“I-I…” He started, but Paul had heard enough, he took John’s legs and lifted them up, pulling John’s bum down a bit, before parting his cheeks with his hands and leaning in. He tried not to think about what he was doing and shut his eyes as he licked over John’s puckered hole.

“Oh! OH! Oh shit!” John gasped in a high voice, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. Paul opened his eyes to look at him and felt his own cock twitch at the sight of him. Encouraged he did it again and again, circling his tongue over the rim, until he pushed inside. At least John had taken a shower just now.

“Oh! Paul! Daddy, yes! Oh yes!” John sighed, sounding out of breath already. His thighs were trembling besides Paul, his fingers pulling at his hair, asking for more. Paul continued to rim him, opening John up with his tongue and making him wet with saliva, until his jaw grew too tired. He quickly pressed two fingers into John, making the boy moan and started to open him up even more. Once he was certain John was as ready as he could be, he pulled away and got to his feet again.

He fumbled awkwardly with his trousers as John watched him through his lashes, his eyes hazy with lust, a smile on his lips. Paul grinned at him as he finally managed to pull his cock from his pants and grabbed John’s hips, pulling him even further down. John groaned at the force, but didn’t try to stop Paul as the older man lined up the head of his erection with his opening. He merely took a couple of deep breath and looked Paul right in the eye, like the first time they had done this and relaxed for him as Paul started to push into him.

John was incredibly tight with such little preparation, but it was doable. Paul kept his eyes firmly onto John to check if he was okay as the younger man opened up for him as he cursed softly under his breath.

“You’re doing wonderful, John. So perfect.” Paul whispered as he leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of John’s mouth, which hung slack in concentration and pleasure. Once he was fully inside, they both let out a heavy sigh. Paul held still for a bit, wanting to give John some time to get used to him.

“Please.” John whimpered and Paul nodded as he started to move, holding John’s hips tightly as he started to pull back, almost all the way, before he pushed back inside. John sighed at the feeling and Paul did it again, before gradually picking up speed, making John hit the wall with every thrust.

After a few minutes, both were lost in pleasure, groaning into each other’s mouths as Paul fucked himself in and out of John with skill, hitting his prostate and getting John to make the most pretty noises. Paul’s hands travelled their way up John’s body, messing up his clothing even more and caressing his shoulders, before his hand closed around John’s neck, not giving any pressure. John gasped at the feeling and his eyes shot open, looking up at Paul immediately. Paul huffed in understanding as a smile appeared on his face.

“You like that?” He asked, pressing down onto John’s throat lightly. The boy nodded and swallowed thickly as his eyes fell closed. His legs wrapped themselves even tighter around Paul’s waist, holding him close.

“Please…” He muttered Paul nodded as he sped up a bit more, one hand reaching down to play with John’s erection as his other hand held John’s throat, keeping him still and only occasionally adding some light pressure, not wanting to hurt the younger man. John’s eyes rolled back in his head from the pleasure, the double stimulation combined with the difficulty to breathe being almost too much. He panted Paul’s name when he could, constricting around him to urge him on.

It didn’t take them long after that. Paul felt his stomach heat up and constrict, letting him know he was close, so he tightened both hands and fucked into John a couple of times roughly, pulling his orgasm from him, before coming himself. Paul kissed John as he came, making them swallow each other’s moans as they came, Paul inside John and John over Paul’s hand. After a while, they both came down from their high and slumped against each other on top of the piano.

“I-I thought you said, _*cough*_  you were going to take me on the bed like I-I _*cough*_ deserved.” John muttered softly, his throat sore with a light chuckle after a little while. Paul glared at him and pressed down John’s throat once more, reminding him of their position.

“Better not get smart with me when I’ve got my hand around your neck, John.” He warned him, but John only smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him. “Merry Christmas, John.” Paul muttered as he pulled away and got off John. He offered John and hand and helped him off the piano so they could start cleaning up. They probably didn’t have much time left.


	16. Chapter 16

John knew his mother wasn’t doing well. He could see it in everything, in what she was doing, in what she said, in how she held herself, in how she seemed desperate from any attention from Paul, reluctant to ever leave him alone. Truthfully, John was starting to get a bit scared by her.

Christmas almost seemed like ages ago, and yet, New Year’s had only been two days ago. Just two more and John would have to go to school again. He didn’t want to go. He knew his finals had went to shit. He was useless and even Cyn’s help hadn’t done him any good. He knew what his grades were going to be like and he wasn’t looking forward to actually seeing them on paper. But with his mother’s behaviour he had little time to actually give his school results much thought.

He had tried to talk to Paul about it when he had been able too. Paul had noticed it as well, how she seemed to watch them and keep them from spending much time together. He had been able to persuade Paul to spend more time with her, keep up their relationship. He knew that was horrible thing to be doing. Paul seemed to really care about his mother and love her, and Julia loved Paul deeply, John knew, and here he was trying to save his own relationship. Because, if Paul and his mother would break up, he doubted he’d see Paul often, if at all. He was a terrible son.

But her fixation on him and Paul wasn’t the only thing that had changed about her. John knew Paul and she weren’t having a lot of sex anymore. On the one hand, he was glad about that, but on the other hand it worried him. He had been listening at their door a few nights. For his mother’s benefit, of course. He knew Paul still initiated sex (which was a rather worrying thought considering how much sex he was having with him and the man’s age) but Julia was either too tired, too busy or wasn’t in the mood. Sometimes she claimed to have headaches and occasionally she would just tell Paul “no”, all of which Paul accepted and respected. Sometimes, he’d come into John’s room to relief himself, other times he took care of himself, occasionally giving John a nice little show (of which he wasn’t aware of course). And when he’d get back he’d lie to her about what he’d done, pretending their little sex life wasn’t affecting him too much.

What was odd, however, was that even though they were having little sex, Julia still seemed to crave Paul’s affection. She’d spend evening curled up at his side, watching telly or listening to the radio or reading a book. She’d be sitting next to him when he was playing piano and the times John had walked in on them snogging were too many to remember or think about without throwing up. She’d drive him to work and help him cook. They’d do the shopping together and played games together in the evenings. She kept holding him, almost always having a hand on his one or his thigh, or having their legs intertwined, or laying with her head on his shoulder and kissing his neck with her lips, making John pray to God that she couldn’t taste him on Paul.

With her being around Paul almost all the time, it was getting more and more difficult for him and Paul to get together. So all they had was time they spend as a “family” with his mother and sister or when Paul would sneak off into his room for some “relief” after which they would talk and cuddle and philosophise about life. It wasn’t much, but John tried to treasure that moments while he hoped his mother would return to her usual self as soon as possible. But when school would start again, maybe they could visit that closet again in Paul’s classroom.

          When John came home from spending some time with the band rehearsing, and found Paul alone behind the piano, his heart made a little leap of joy. He quickly took off his shoes and coat and hurried over to take a seat next to Paul. He’d rather not have sex on that piano again. His body had been sore for two full days! Luckily John had been able to pretend it was from the sledding incident. His mother had believed him, which was the most important thing. Paul turned his head to him with a smile and leaned in to kiss him. John met him halfway.

“You’re back early. We hadn’t expected you until five at least!” Paul said as they broke apart, his fingers continuing their song. John smiled as he watched Paul’s fingers move, his own coming up and joining in, mimicking what Paul did. He had started to get better since he had taken up some more lessons with Paul, this time focussing on the piano. Paul praised his work and together they finished the song, before John leaned in to kiss Paul again, this time allowing his tongue to join in, too.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made them break apart. Not a minute later, Julia emerged from the hallway, looking rather pale. John noticed straight away she was trembling as her eyes shot between him and Paul at a rapid speed. When Paul stood up and opened his arms to pull her against him, she let out a whimper and quickly excused herself. They could hear her burst out into sobs as he feet hurried back up the stairs. Paul stared blankly after her, unsure what to do.

“She’s not doing well.” Paul remarked, his voice sounding almost bitter. John shook his head.

“No, she isn’t.” He replied, taking a few deep breaths as he watched Paul, thinking of what to do. He sighed deeply, before continuing. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“I tried.” Paul replied, but went to follow his girlfriend upstairs anyway. With a groan John let his head rest against the piano, fearing things were going to change soon and most-likely not for the better.

          Paul held his breath as he climbed the stairs softly, not wanting to scare Julia off. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. She had been like this for weeks and Paul would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about her. He just hoped she hadn’t found out about him and John some way. He supposed she hadn’t. He was certain he wouldn’t still be allowed in the house if she had. He had never discussed any of his previous… erm… “relationships” with her, but he doubted she’d be very taken with the idea of him liking men as well. Especially if one of those men was her own son.

That fact still bothered Paul. Even if he hadn’t mentioned it again to John or spend too much thought on it, sometimes it would hit him that he was having a illegal, homosexual relationship with a boy not only twenty-five years his junior, young enough to be his son, but also the son of his girlfriend. It were times like these, when Julia was acting like this, that he was most reminded of that (if you didn’t counted the obvious; when they were having sex) and it always made him feel nauseous. It wasn’t enough to make him want to break things off with John, though. Not now they had made it this far.

He tapped softly on the door to his and Julia’s bedroom. A soft, whimpering came from behind the door, which Paul took as a sign that he was allowed to come in. He took a deep breath and gently opened the door, peeking around the corner to see what state his girlfriend was in. When he saw her sitting hunched over on the bed, his between her legs, hands buried in his thick, red locks, he quickly stepped inside and hurried over to her. He knelt down before her, gently placing his hands on her heaving shoulder as he whispered her name soothingly.

“Julia? Darling, what’s wrong?” He asked her, his voice trembling with worry. Julia shook her head and kept looking at the floor, not meeting Paul’s eyes. “Please, honey, tell me what’s wrong. You’re worrying me.”

“Oh, Paul…” She finally replied, still not looking up. She sounded as if she was crying. Paul gently ran his fingers through her hair, pushing some out of her face, before cupping her cheek and angling up her face. She refused, though, and merely pushed his hand away. “I’m just being silly. Don’t mind me.”

“No, love, you’re not being silly. Come on, just tell what it is. I want to help.” Paul tried again, almost begging her. She shook her head again, but this time Paul pressed on, tightening his grip on her and making her look up at him. When he saw she was crying, he gasped and quickly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“It’s nothing.” She mumbled, but this time Paul shook his head.

“It’s not nothing. You’re crying. Please, darling. I love you.”  

“I know you do.” Julia muttered as she pulled away from Paul. She smiled sadly at him and wiped her eyes. Paul grabbed his sleeve and gently dabbed her face with it to do it for her. Julia muttered an almost inaudible thank you at that as she sniffled softly.

“I-I know know why I’m crying.” She spoke after a little while. Paul looked deeply into her eyes and gave her an encouraging smile as she chuckled at her own stupidity.  "I know I should be happy… but… but…“ Paul, fearing she’d burst into tears again, pulled her face into his chest and wrapped his arms soothingly around her as if he was protecting her. Julia took in a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself before she continued.

"It’s- It’s just… When I see you with John… I- I” Paul felt his body grown cold at the words, fearing what would come next. Julia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took another deep breath. “I just love you so much… and I see all these people outside, living happily with their families and their children and then I think about us and I- I’m afraid. I- I don’t want to lose you.”

“Lose me? How could you ever lose me?” Paul interrupted her, looking stunned. This was not what he had thought she’d be telling him. He hadn’t thought she would actually think he was leaving her. Except if… had she seen them? Did she think he was going to leave her so he could run away with John? Like some stupid fairytale?

“I know! I told you, I’m just silly. But… we… we” Julia continued, hiccuping as another wave of tears was approaching, “You can’t deny Paul… that we… we’re not the same anymore, are we? I mean look at us! We rarely talk any more. You’re busy with John and Jules more than with me. It’s been almost two weeks since we last had sex! And you… you’re always leaving in the middle of the night and you never hold me anymore. Not like you used to and I’m afraid you’ve… you’ve grown bored of me. I don’t want you to leave, Paul. I don’t want to lose you.”

Paul’s eyes went wide at that. He pulled away from her and held her at arm length as he stared at her, watching as Julia looked down shyly and started playing with the fabric of her skirt. This was what she was afraid of? Why she was acting so off? Because she was afraid he’d leave.

“What if you found someone else?”

“Julia, darling, oh sweet darling, I won’t leave you. I promise you. I love you.” Paul told her with a deep sigh, smiling gently at her. Julia looked up at him, their eyes locking. Her lips were slightly parted, but she didn’t look completely convinced yet.

“Then- then why won’t you marry me?” She asked. Stunned, Paul stared at her, at a loss for words. Marriage? Fuck, of course. “I- We’ve been together for longer than a year, Paul. You’ve been living here for a couple of months and you met my family. You get along with John and Jules, so why would you not ask me to marry you if… if…”

“Honey. Darling, I- I didn’t know you wanted to. I thought you wanted to wait. Until everything was the way it should be. Until the kids were used to me and until we knew that this is forever? I- You want to marry?” Julia nodded at him, blushing a deep scarlet as she looked down again. Paul continued to stare at her, unsure of what to do. She had a point though. Everything was as it should be. At least, for the two of them. They knew they worked together and he still loved her and it was obvious she loved him. Why wouldn’t they get married. John. The answer was John.

“Julia?” Paul asked, suddenly filled with courage. The woman looked up at him. Her eyes were dry now, but still red from crying. Her lips were chapped from where she had been biting and her hair was messy. Still, Paul didn’t know a better place or time to do it then right that second.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, letting out a deep sigh as the words left his mouth. Julia stared at him a while, before the corner of her lips curled up in a smile. She wrapped her arms tightly around Paul’s neck and pulled him in for a deep long kiss as she whispered her reply.

“Yes,” she said and Paul couldn’t help but smile as well, his body shaking with excitement, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

          Paul stared at himself in the mirror. What he saw wasn’t at all what he was feeling. His reflection was smiling at him, a wide, smug grin plastered across his face. His cheeks were pinkish and round as he smiled at himself and at first glance it seemed that even his eyes were smiling. Exactly the way a man should look when he had just gotten engaged to the woman he loved most in the world. Except…

He felt like shouting, like crying out and falling onto the floor, begging. He was at loss of what to do. He couldn’t marry Julia, however much she meant to him. Not while he was still sleeping around with John. With her _son_! His life was a mess and there was no one left to help him. Not even John could help him now.

Speaking of John, what was he going to do with him now? He was going to get married to his mum, but he didn’t want to stop what they were having. Oh lord, he was such a bad person, wasn’t he? He ought to tell him, though. He had to. It was only fair. They should decide together how they were going to continue their relationship. Just as stepfather-and-son, or as… whatever they were now. Boyfriends just didn’t make much sense for the two of them. Yes, that is what he should do. He opened the tap and splashed some water onto his face to cool off. When he looked up however, he was still grinning painfully. His entire life was a lie.

          John sat quietly behind the piano as he listened closely for signs of what was going on upstairs. He couldn’t hear anything, though, which meant his mother hadn’t killed Paul yet. Did that mean she didn’t know about them? He hoped so. He supposed so. Then, he heard a door fall shut loudly upstairs, followed by eager footsteps on the landing and after that the stairs. When John looked up, he saw his mother coming into the living room, looking… happy. No, that wasn’t a good word for it. She looked… blissful. What the-

“Are you alright?” John interrupted himself, frowning. Just minutes ago, she had been on the verge of crying, if not crying and had stormed up the stairs, upset over something neither he nor Paul were aware of and now she was smiling from ear to ear as clasping her hands together excitedly.

“Oh, honey, I couldn’t be better! Oh, I have the most wonderful news! I’ll be out for a few minutes, getting us some treats. We have to celebrate!” Julia told him, only making John even more confused. He stared at her, his mind worked hard to figure out what was going on. Eventually, he could only think of one thing. The mood swings, looking nauseous all the time, wanting Paul close, the crying, the overall tiredness.

“You- You’re not… pregnant?!” John exclaimed. Thankfully, his mother turned to him with surprise. She burst out into laughter and shook her head.

“Oh, John, no! Don’t be silly. Now, I’ll be right back. Tell Paul I’ll be right back.” She told him, _skipping_  over to John to kiss him on the forehead, before skipping out of the room and finally out of the door. This didn’t do much good for John’s confusion. Not long after she had disappeared however, Paul came down the stairs, but his footsteps were a lot less happy. They were dull and heavy. When he appeared in the living room, he looked much different. He was smiling broadly, almost looking smug, walking with his chest out. What was going on?!

“John! You’re here. Well, of course you’re here. I- I er… I have to tell you something. Let’s sit down.” Paul told him. John frowned again and looked Paul up and down, studying him, not trusting at all what was going on. Still, he let the older man take him to the couch.

“You’re really kind of scaring me, you know.” John muttered. Paul turned to him and in only those few seconds when they had moved to the couch, his entire expression had changed. His eyes had gone comically wide and his cheeks had paled incredibly. It almost didn’t seem natural.

“John. You’re mum and me…. we…” Paul started, his voice shaking now as he sat slightly hunched forward. John waited for Paul to continue, but Paul remained quiet after that. John urged him to continue, but Paul merely continued to stare at him. Until…

“Where is Julia?” he asked suddenly, looking around. John nodded into the direction of the door.

“Getting something to eat. To celebrate. Paul? What’s wrong? Or right?”

“Well… Julia and I- We really should wait for Jules and your mother for this. It’s quite a bit of news.” And with that Paul got back up and walked off, leaving John frustrated, confused and honestly a little angry behind on the couch.

“I’ll get Jules then, shall I?” John shouted into the hallway, before raising to his feet to get Jules from her room, wondering what the hell was going on. As if his life wasn’t crazy and complicated enough. At least, it had to be a good thing, right? His mother had been through the roof and Paul… well… at first he had seemed incredibly happy, until… John didn’t know anymore. He shook his head and climbed to stairs to get his sister to come down to _celebrate_. Whatever they were going to _celebrate_.

          John and Jules sat together on the couch, looking anxiously at the two adults before them. Both had taken a seat on the coffee table, something which he and Jules were never allowed to do, but neither thought it was the time to bring that up. Julia still looked blissfully happy, while Paul looked pale and was shaking a bit but was still grinning like a fool. Thankfully, Jules looked just as confused as John, which meant this indeed was odd. Like he had thought.

“Okay, darlings,” Julia started, dreamily, “We have some important news to share with you. And I think you will be just as happy and thrilled as we are.” John looked from his mother to Paul. The latter was watching him with an odd expression, almost looking apologetic. Julia shuffled forward a bit so she was closer to the adults.

“What is it, Mum?” She asked. Julia smiled at her, before turning her head to look at Paul. Paul looked at her as well and smiled at her. Julia reached for his hand and took in her own, intertwining their fingers. For a moment it seemed as if they were wordlessly discussing something, until Paul nodded and looked back at the children. He looked them both over, before taking a deep breath.

“You both know I love your mother very much and we’ve been together for a while now so we er… we’ve decided that-”

“We’re getting married!” Julia exclaimed, interrupting Paul before he could finish the sentence. It took a while for John to register the words, his brain working hard to figure out what those words meant exactly and how it would effect him. Jules had jumped up with a happy cry and was hugging both her mother and Paul tightly as John merely stared at him, brow furrowed.

“I-I don’t…” He started, but when his and Paul’s eyes met, he fell silent, his voice dying off. He felt his entire body go cold and rigid, making it impossible to move even just a finger. Paul…? His mother…? married…? How…?

“I realise it’s all a bit much to take in, but we’re going to be a happy family together! The four of us!” Julia said, looking up at John with sparkling eyes, still feeling blissfully happy. John, however, felt like throwing up.

“Married?” He asked, shivering as his vision blurred and the world seemed to slip away from him. All of a sudden he was standing up, on his feet, looking down at Paul with wide eyes from shock.

“John.” Paul started, but as if on cue, John turned around and burst out of the door. He grabbed his coat from the peg on the wall and ran outside into the cold air, away from his mother. Away from his sister. Away from the marriage. Away from Paul. They couldn’t get married. They couldn’t! Not now… now he… He cried out as his knees hit the ground with a loud crack. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. Cold snow was seeping through his jeans, but he couldn’t even feel it. He gagged. And gagged again, before his knees gave out completely. He caught himself with his hands. He was bending over on the ground. He knew he should get up, but his body felt weak. This wasn’t happening. They couldn’t get married. Not Paul.

* * *

 

John walked quietly among the graves, occasionally bumping into some or nearly tripping over something on the ground, as he wasn’t wearing his glasses and couldn’t see a thing. It was dark and cold outside and John had his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, which he had zipped up all the way and pulled over his nose. He had been stupid not to grab a scarf and a pair of gloves as well, as it was some degrees below zero and freezing. He could almost feel his tears ice up as they rolled down his cheeks. He was shivering too and his knees felt weak as he slowly moved forward. His throat was dry, his stomach growled in complaint. He had skipped dinner of course. He had been walking for hours it seemed, unsure of what to do and therefore not doing anything.

At first he had sat on the curb for a while, watching the snow melt in his hands as he tried to stop thinking, in the hope Paul would come out and talk to him. He had sat there for almost twenty-five minutes, before he had given up hope and started walking. He couldn’t remember where he had been, but that didn’t matter. None of it really mattered anymore.

He felt incredibly stupid. He had known this had been bound to happen. It had been a miracle it hadn’t happened earlier, and John knew that. Even if Stuart hadn’t told him that plenty of times before, he had known that. He shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t be feeling betrayed and hurt, put aside or thrown away. He should have prepared himself for this. And he certainly shouldn’t have allowed himself to believe that Paul actually felt anything towards him. That he had cared about him. He didn’t. It had only been a stupid affair. Childish and naive and certainly not anything serious. Just sex. Relief.  

John sighed deeply and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, as he stepped forward, through the gates of the cemetery, so he found himself back on the street. He turned left, towards the docks. The bell of the church chimed ten as he walked past, reminding John that he should find a place to sleep that night. He couldn’t go back home. Not yet.

As the docks came into sight, so did the sounds of waves bashing against the wood of the ships, making them rock in the wind. There was a thin layer of ice on the water, but it was easily broken by the heavy ships. John walked over, looking up to feel the salty wind against his face. Maybe that’s what I should do, John thought as he watched a couple of sailors walk drunkenly across the docks, back to one of the ships. Just get on one of those ships and sail away. Find a new life.

He laughed at his own silly over dramatic thoughts and shook his head. He walked further and came by a couple of pubs. He looked inside, wondering if he should go and drink his feelings away and drown himself in self-pity.  How much he liked that idea, the pubs were overly full, and John didn’t feel like having people around him. He just needed to be alone for a bit. Stuart! It hit him unexpectedly and out of nowhere, but he was glad that it had. He could go to Stuart and spend some nights there until he figured out what to do and didn’t feel like hitting Paul first chance he got. Stuart knew what had happened between him and Paul sort of, so he’d understand. Or at least he hoped so.

          Back at home, Paul was walking in circles through the living room, biting his nails and he glanced ever few second at the door, hoping John would step through it. He never did. Julia was sitting on the couch, looking both worried and annoyed. She was clutching at a ciggy, occasionally sucking eagerly at it. They had sent Julia upstairs to bed as early as they could. She didn’t seem to understand why John had ran off like that at the happy news, so they felt it was best to have her upstairs if John were to come home. Paul hoped he would come home. He knew he should have done this differently. Of course, John had been shocked at the news and he could only imagine how hurt John must be feeling. Everything had been going so well between him and John and now this happened.

Honestly, Paul didn’t know what to do anymore. Not that he ever really had with him and John, but right now he truly didn’t have a clue. Julia was offering all Paul had ever wanted and yet, he still wanted John as well. But if he got married to Julia, they would become family. Their relationship had always been questionable, but then… Paul didn’t want that to happen, but he still wanted Julia. He loved her, even after all that had happened with her son, he still loved her and he’d love to spend the rest of his life with her and grow old together and have a family and go on long walks with a family dog and sleep in the same warm bed together, every night, to be awoken the next morning to the sight of her red hair on his pale skin. With Julia he had a future. With John everything was uncertain. And he was still young. They were both in very different stages of their lives, and yet, he felt they could have a chance. And he did care about John. He-

“Paul! Stop walking about, you’re making me nervous.” Julia snapped at him from the couch. Paul stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. Julia was leaning forward over the coffee table to put out her cigarette with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry.” She said, “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Paul chose to ignore her apology and glanced at the door again, but John didn’t walk through it. He continued to stare for a while longer, his mind working fast as he wondered what John was up to. He was worried about him, knowing what he was capable off. John was self-destructive and that worried Paul. He had been out for hours and he still hadn’t come back. There was a good chance he had gone to Stuart, Cynthia or Ringo, where Julia said he was, but Paul didn’t belief it. He hoped that John hadn’t gone drinking his pain away. The last time he had gotten drunk, he had been beaten up by two guys and Stuart and Ringo had had to carry him back home. And if he was alone…

“I’m going to look for him.” Paul exclaimed, nodding resolutely and hurrying to the hallway to put on his coat. He saw John’s (or rather his own) scarf still hanging from a peg and grabbed that one as well, figuring John would be cold. He had just pulled on his own jacket, when Julia grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“And start where?! It’s clear he doesn’t want to see either of us.” Julia told him sternly and Paul sighed, knowing she had a point. Still, he had to try. He’d hate himself if John got hurt because he didn’t go after him, while he knew he should have.

“I’ll start with his friends. Then I’ll go past the clubs and pubs to look for him. Someone must have seen him. I’ll be back soon, I promise.” Paul told her, leaning in to kiss her, but Julia shook her head and turned him her cheek.

“If he is with Stuart or Cynthia, do you seriously think he would let them tell you where he is?! Don’t be foolish, Paul. John can take care of himself and he always comes back. He just needs some time to get over it.” She told him and Paul started chewing his bottom lip, unsure. What Julia said made sense, still, he had to try right.

“I swear I’ll be back soon.” Paul tried again, but Julia shook her head raising her hands to unbutton Paul’s coat and take it off again. Paul didn’t object.

“He’ll be back, Paul. Let him come to terms with it in his own time.” Julia told him sweetly and Paul give in with a deep sigh. Perhaps she was right. “You know,” Julia continued as she hung his coat back up and began to remove his scarf as well, “I had hoped he would have taken it well. He had seemed so happy that you’re here and I was certain he wouldn’t have minded if we got engaged.” Paul didn’t reply to that, knowing the real reason for why John had taken the news as he had and he’d rather not let Julia know about that. She most definitely would not take that well.

“What I mean to say, Paul, is that John can be very emotional and sometimes acts in strange ways. He likes you. He just needs some time to deal with the news. But he’ll be back. He always come back.” Julia told him and Paul nodded, even though he knew better. “Come. It’s late. Let’s go to bed. This was a happy day for us, Paul. We’re getting married! We’re going to live a happy life together, I just know it.” She said, smiling as she stood up on her toes to kissed him. Paul let her, holding Julia gently by her hip as he let her take his mind of John for a bit. “Everything will be fine.” She muttered as they pulled away and with that, she closed his fingers around three of Paul’s and pulled him with him up the stairs.

          It had started to snow. John was wet and cold and he felt tears burning up in his eyes again as he was cruelly reminded of Paul and him walking home together at Christmas day, not that many days ago. He could still feel the other man’s body heat and hear the man singing in his ear, as he walked. He pictured the two of them walking, like he was now, he remembered seeing Paul play the piano as he had came back down from taking his shower. He remembered the feeling of Paul’s fingers caressing his skin and the feeling of his lips against his own. He remembered the feeling of piano keys digging into his skin and how the instrument had creaked and wailed under their weight. He was reminded of their first time together, how sweet and gentle Paul had been with him. How caring. It hurt to think about it, now he knew it had all been a lie.

As he closed his eyes he could see Paul cooking for him as they ate dinner together, just the two of them. He saw Paul sitting next to him in his bed late at night, wide eyes as he confessed that he wanted him and didn’t want to stop what they had only just started. He saw Paul and him in the car, Paul’s hand on John’s inner thigh as he drove them to the shops were John had picked out those panties. He remembered the look of Paul’s face when he had seen John wearing them. How he had dropped to his knees and practically worshipped him. He remembered the many times they had sat together in John’s room, door locked as they played guitar. He remembered the night he and Paul had fallen asleep on the couch together, wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing body warmth.

John bit down his tongue to keep himself from crying. He had done enough of that. Too much, even. He was relieved when Stuart’s apartment came into view and he ignored the flashes of memories of him and Paul as he hurried over.

Only a few seconds after John had knocked at his door, the door opened for him. Stuart was looking worried and was wearing nothing more than a pair of pyjama pants. He smiled apologetically at his friend, whose eyes widened in shock as he saw the state John was in. Immediately he grabbed John, wrapped an arm around him and pulled him inside the warmth of his home.

“Stu? Who is that?” A female voice came from Stuart’s bedroom. John looked up at him with a knowing grin, and Stuart blushed. He sat John down on his couch as he called back to her.

“No one! Just a friend. Hold on, I’ll be right back!” He told her as he started to take off John’s wet clothes for him. The girl in his bedroom giggled.

“I’d hurry if I were you, or I’ll continue without you!” She called back, painting Stuart’s cheeks even redder. John was still grinning, but Stuart didn’t seem to notice it, being too caught up in the rest of him.

“What happened?” He asked, grabbing a blanket from the other side of the couch and wrapping it tightly around his friend as he moved down to start working on John’s shoes. John swallowed at the question.

“I-It’s P-Paul…” John stammered, his voice weak and trembling from the cold. Stuart looked up at him, seeming almost shocked.

“Did he do anything to you?” He asked, sounding deadly serious. He sighed in relief when John quickly shook his head with a rather angry expression on his face. How could he even suggest such a think.

“P-Paul and J-julia… they’re… they’re getting m-married.” John explained. Stuart nodded and smiled reassuringly at him, understand now. John felt his anger ebb away again quickly, feeling glad he wasn’t going to have to hear Stuart tell him “I told you so”. He didn’t need that right now. To be honest, he didn’t know what he needed.

“You’re all cold! How long have you been out there!” Stuart remarked as he put John’s shoes and coat aside. John could only shrug at the question. Stuart tutted at that and stood up, as he offered John a hand. John took it without question, holding on tightly to the blanket to keep it from falling off, enjoying the softness and the warmth that it gave him.

“Come on. Let’s get you under the shower to warm up.” Stuart told him, offering John his arm to lean on. John smiled apologetically at his friend as the past the bedroom door. It was half open, but John didn’t look inside, understanding that she’d probably would like some privacy. He surprised himself. Not a few months ago he would have looked for sure, hoping to catch sight her naked breasts or butt. He frowned at himself, but he didn’t have much time to think about it, as he was quickly pushed underneath the shower, clothes and all.

“Stay here, wash yourself and take off your clothes. I’ll be right back with some clean ones.” Stuart told him as he adjusted the water temperature a bit, so John wouldn’t get uncomfortable, before he disappeared out of the door. John sat down on the tiled floor, his body feeling weak after having walked for such a long time in the freezing cold. Slowly, he tried to take off his clothing, his body complaining when he moved too much. He gasped in shock as he saw some patches of his skin had turned blue. The more clothes he removed, the more blue he revealed. He reached up to up the temperature of the water, knowing fully well this wasn’t good. He groaned as he started to lightly massage his skin, hoping that would help.

When Stuart got back, he didn’t miss the way the older man gasped at the sight of him. He put away the pile of clothes he had gotten for John in the sink and sat down on the toilet as he waited for John to finish his shower. They didn’t say anything as they waited for John’s skin to return to its natural colour. Still, the tension was horrible. John knew Stuart wanted to know more. He knew Stuart wasn’t happy about him right now and John felt embarrassed.

Once he was done, Stuart helped him up and offered John a clean towel to dry himself with as he left him alone to make some tea. John already felt better after the shower. His body didn’t hurt as much anymore and he was all warm again. He looked at himself in the mirror and whined at the sight of himself. He looked tired with dark circles under his eyes and overall was still a little white. He dried himself thoroughly, before grabbing Stuart’s clothes and pulling them on. They were a bit too small for him, but he managed. As long as he didn’t bend down too much he would be alright.

Stuart was waiting for him with two cups of tea in the small kitchen. They sat down at the breakfast table with their tea and as John started to drink, his stomach growled. Stuart immediately stood up and grabbed John two sandwich. John thanked him and eagerly started to eat, not having realised just how hungry he was.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.” John apologized between bites, nodding into the direction of Stuart’s bedroom. The older man shrugged.

“She understood.” He told him, making John laugh.

“She left, didn’t she?” He asked knowingly, laughing even more when Stuart nodded sadly. “I’ll make it up to her though.” John nodded, but didn’t stop grinning as he continued to eat his food. Once he was done, he let Stuart take him to the bedroom, where he offered John one of the mattresses to sleep on. John crept under the blankets right away, feeling suddenly incredibly tired. He yawned and watched quietly as Stuart slid into his own bed. Within a minute, he was sound asleep.

          Paul sat quietly on the edge of his bed, looking down at himself. Julia was asleep. She had fallen asleep almost immediately after she had come, for which Paul was glad. He didn’t feel like talking or cuddling. Honestly, he hadn’t been feeling much for sex, either, but it had been a good way to take his mind away from John. Now, however, it was all he could think about.

He wondered where he was, as he hadn’t come home. He hoped he was okay and that he would come home soon. He didn’t like not knowing what was happening. He didn’t like this… this loss of control. There was nothing he could do. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know what he doing, he didn’t know what he was feeling… He didn’t know what he himself was feeling either.

Mostly, he was worried of course. And now he felt guilty as well, for having sex with Julia while he had run off upset and angry because Paul had basically betrayed him. He should be disgusted with himself. And in a sense he was. He wished John would come home so they could talk about it. Even more so, he wished there was an easy answer to their problem. A way for all three of them to be happy, but there was none.

Paul got up and pulled on his robe. He had to get out for a bit. Do something. Walk. He stumbled out of the bedroom and crept down the stairs to the living room. Once he was there, however, he still didn’t know what to do. He eyed the phone on the wall, asking himself if he should call anyone to ask if they had seen John. But Julia was right, of course, even if John was with Stuart or Cynthia, they wouldn’t say anything if John told them not to. Again, Paul felt incredibly helpless, unable to do anything.

He let himself fall down onto the couch and curled up his legs, hugging them against his chest as he stared out of the window and into the garden. It was snowing. And Paul missed John already.

          John woke up in the middle of the night, sweat dripping down his back as he panted heavily. He sat up in the bed and reached with his hand around the floor for his glasses, until he remembered he hadn’t taken them with him. He looked around the room, which was entirely dark. He could barely see a thing. When he noticed he was sitting on a mattress and there was another one a few feet away from him, he remembered where he was. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

He couldn’t recall exactly what he had been dreaming about, but it certainly hadn’t been pleasant. He remembered a single, extremely bright, white room with nothing in it. And screaming. His own or someone else’s he didn’t know. And then a flash of red, which went away as quickly as it had appeared. There had been other people there, but John couldn’t remember who or how. The more he tried to remember, the less he knew.

Shaking slightly, he got up and walked into the living room, where he sat down on the couch. He saw a few books lying on the ground next to it and he picked one of them up. One was about art, so he opened it. It wasn’t like he could sleep now, nor that he wanted to, being too afraid he’d dream that horrible dream again, so perhaps some reading would do him good.

He read for about twenty minutes, before got cold and reached got up to grab the blanket Stuart had used to wrap around him. It was still a little bit damp, but it would do. He curled up on the couch again, this time all nice and warm and continued reading. He wasn’t sure what he was reading about, but that didn’t matter. As long as it could take his mind off everything, it was fine. And the reading of the words calmed him, even if he didn’t completely try to understand them. Another forty minutes later, his eyes had fallen close again and he was sleeping restlessly again.


	17. Chapter 17

John jerked up wide away as he heard a door fall tightly shut. He sat up straight on the couch, his book falling off his chest and onto the bare wooden floor. Stuart stood by his bedroom door, grinning at the sight of his friend, sleepy, dishevelled and somewhat confused.

“Slept well then, Lennon?” He asked. John frowned, before blushing at the realisation of where he was and what had happened. “Next time, sleep on the bed I saved for you. Especially if I kicked out my date for it.”

“It’s hardly a bed though, is it?” John replied as he let out a yawn and stretched himself out, before curling back up on the couch, pulling up this blanket- which was now completely dry- all the way to his nose. Stuart rolled his eyes at this and grabbed a notebook and a few pencils out of his school bag by the door, before taking a seat on one of the old, rugged chairs near John.

“Oh yeah, Stuart. Of course! I truly am sorry for keeping you from getting laid with a hot bird because of my slightly pathetic problems.” Stuart said with a silly voice, trying to mimic John. The later didn’t say anything however, and only winked at his friend, before closing his eyes with a deep sigh. Stuart chuckled at that, and thankfully didn’t seem to annoyed, as he opened up his notebook and started sketching. Occasionally, he would look at John, frown in concentration and go back to work, making John curious to know if he was drawing him.

“Why are you sleeping here, anyway?” The older man asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Couldn’t sleep.” John answered with a shrug.

“What? Bad dream or something?”

“No. Just couldn’t sleep. Are you… Are you sketching me?” John asked, sitting up a bit more, as Stuart continued to draw with a little grin on his face. “Can I see?”

“No. It’s not finished yet.”

“It’s been a while since you last drew me.” John remarked, shuffling a bit closer to his friend to try to peak over his shoulder and get a glimpse, but he was sitting too far away.

“Well… you’ve been busy. School, the band… Paul… I get it.” Stuart replied with a shrug, but there was a sadness in his voice that made John feel guilty. He had forgotten about Stuart a bit, having been so invested in Paul and trying to pass his classes. He hadn’t been the best friend and he knew that. Perhaps he could change that now, considering how things were between him and Paul now.

“What happened by the way. With Paul? I mean… you told me he and your mum are engaged, but…”

“He and I…” John started, taking a deep breath as he decided to say it all, needing to get it off his chest, “I don’t know what we were, but there was something, you know. We’ve been together for a while. We were having fun. _He_ was fun. It wasn’t just physical, you know. The sex… we had sex. Plenty of times. It is-was- great, but that wasn’t all. He taught be guitar. We spoke and one evening we even slept together. For a while. On the couch. Curled up together. I-I… I thought he cared, you know. But apparently that was all it was. Fun. Nothing more and now he’s off marrying me mum. And I- I’m… alone. I ran off as soon as they told me.”

“Do you love him?”

“…”

“John?”

“I- perhaps. Yes.”

“John… You know what I think of this. I told you what I think… And I don’t think I can understand, but… you realise it’s over now, don’t you? It’s time. They’re no other possibility.”

“I know,” John spoke with a deep sigh, “I know that now.”

“You should go home. I’m sure they’re worried, if you ran off like that.”

“I know, Stu. I just… I need some time, you know. To get it sorted out. To get over him. I need some time for myself. Away from home. Away from Paul.”

“You can stay here.” Stuart suggested, looking up from his sketch to stare at John’s nose, trying to figure out how it was shaped exactly- he had never managed to get it quite right. Or at least that’s what he thought. To John, everything the lad drew was perfect and beautiful. He smiled at the offer and nodded.

“Thanks, mate.”

“No worries.” He replied and John smiled broadly, before letting out a loud yawn. Sleep was getting to him again, making his eyes feel heavy and his mind fuzzy. He pulled the blanket off him and hung it around his shoulder as he got up from the couch. Stuart looked up from his work in surprise and slightly annoyance at the fact that his model decided to move.

“I think I’m going to get some more sleep… I’m dead tired.” John said with a small smile and Stuart nodded slowly. Right at that moment, though, the phone rang. John froze on the spot, knowing it had to be Paul or his mum, asking if Stuart know where he was. They were probably really worried. Stuart threw his legs over his chair and put his stuff aside as he got up to answer the phone. John watched him and chewed his lips as Stuart picked up the receiver and said his name.

“Oh! Paul! Err… if John’s here? I- er…” Stuart stammered as he looked at John with wide, questioning eyes. Immediately John shook his head, not wanting Paul to know where he was, knowing he’d either come get him or call every day trying to change his mind or try to talk to him. He didn’t want that. He needed to figure it all out and he needed to do that alone.

“Oh… Sorry. He’s not here at the moment…. What?…. Oh yeah, I’ll do that. Yeah… Alright, Mr McCartney. I’ll err… look out for him…. yes… yes… yes, alright… Yeah, bye. And good luck!” Stuart continued, pausing whenever Paul said something. John tried to keep track of the conversation, but not much made sense to him, although it was clear Paul was worried. John didn’t blame him. He would be too, but he needed this. For the both of them.

“Thanks, Stu.” John muttered as Stuart hung up the phone and with one last nod, he shuffled into the bedroom again, only to collapse onto the bed and fall asleep again, not noticing when Stuart sneaked into the room to sketch him some more.

            Outside it was clam. The sky was coloured a very light blue, and everything was covered in a layer of pure white snow. The reflection of the sun glistened on it, making it hard to look at it directly. Luckily, Paul had something other than the snow to focus on. He watched in silence, listening to the bird chirping, as Jules made snowman, rolling balls around through the entire garden and searching for things to make the eyes, mouths, arms and the buttons of his coat out off. Julia had given her a couple of funny hats and carrots for the noses. She was smiling happily, softly singing songs as she muttered to herself, being lost in her own little world.

Paul envied her. He wished he could be like that, lost in his own little word where nothing would hurt him. Where everything just made sense, however odd it was. He wished John could be there too… It had been a relief when he had called up Stuart. Stuart hadn’t needed to tell him John was with him. He had known if from the moment he had heard his voice through the receiver. He was glad he was with him though. Save with his friend. In a warm home with food, although Paul doubted it’d be wholesome. But at least he wasn’t wandering the streets, no where to go, alone and shivering in the cold, sleeping on a park bench. No, he was save. But he hadn’t wanted to speak with him. Stuart had told him John wasn’t there, which obviously meant John _was_ but didn’t want to speak with him. It had hurt, even though he had expected it. Not that Paul would have known what to say when he had him on the phone. Apart from sorry. He had no solution to their situation. He hadn’t a clue what to do. For now it seemed there was no other option but to break it off and bury it in the past to be nothing more but a fond memory. But he didn’t want that and judging from John’s reaction to his engagement, he didn’t want to either.

“He’ll turn up, you know. He’ll be back and happy that we’re getting married. He just needs time.” Julia suddenly whispered into his ear, her hands coming up to rub his chest, shoulders and back. Paul smiled weakly at that and nodded, even if he didn’t think the same thing. He leaned into her comforting touch with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He giggled when he felt her lips around his earlobe, pulling gently.

“I’m glad we’re here together.” She mumbled. Paul nodded and turned his head to kiss her. He was lucky to have her. He really was. She could always make him feel better about everything. Even now. When she was part of their troubling situation.

“I love you.” He replied and Julia snickered, before kissing him, pressing her lips firmly against Paul’s and tightening her grip on him. When she pulled away again, Paul felt a lot warmer.

“I should go back inside. Call my sister and tell her we know where John is. She’s been worried.” She told him, nuzzling her nose against Paul’s cheek. Paul nodded and reached for her hand, brining it up to his mouth to kiss all five of her finger, one by one.

“You should.She might get mad at you if you leave her worried for too long.”

“She’s always mad at me.”

“No, she’s not.” Paul spoke, pulling away and looking deep into her eyes with a gentle smile, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She said, before leaning it to give him one last peck. She was still smiling when she pulled away and got up to go back inside. Paul watched her go and sighed sadly when she disappeared inside and looked back at Jules who had just started on her forth snowman. Right away, Paul could see who it was. John. Then again, the fact that the other three were the rest of their little family, might have been a big enough clue to guess.

“When is John coming back?” Jules asked as she pressed two little grey rocks in the snowman’s head, side by side, making the eyes. Paul sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not sure, darling.” Paul answered her truthfully. He knew how much she misses him and he doesn’t want to give her any false hope. She was crazy about her older brother. Although, he would like to tell her he’d be back by New Year’s.

“Do you miss him?” Jules asked as she took a step back to admire her work. She didn’t seem satisfied, as she removed one of the eyes and pressed in a different rock. Paul had to admit this one was better.

“I do.”

“I do, too. I wouldn’t take it personally, you know.” Jules said as she reached for a carrot and pressed it into into the poor snowman below its rock eyes.

“What?”

“Him leaving. He likes you. I know he does. It’s just… He’s not that great when things change. He doesn’t like it. And he loves our mum. He doesn’t want her hurt, so he reacts like this. It’s fear. He might not want to admit it, but he’s scared.”

“Scared?”

“Everybody’s scared.” She answered with a shrug. Paul laughed at that, getting up and walked over to her to wrap his arms around her and lift her up. She squealed when he did, but started giggling when Paul started kissing her cheek.

“And when did my princess get this clever, eh?” He asked with a laugh. He looked over at the snowman that was now nearly finished. Jules stopped giggling when she noticed what he was looking at.

“What do you think? Does he look like John?”

“He’s perfect, darling.”

“He really ought to get home soon. It’s almost new year’s /and/ he still has my pencil sharpener!”

“Your pencil sharpener? Why does he have that?” Paul asked, surprised as he let her back down, feeling his back start to complain. Jules nodded and took Paul’s hand in hers as they looked at the snowman together.

“He nicked it from me. I looked for it, but I couldn’t find it. I want it back, though, but now he can’t give it.” She explained.

“Want me to help you find it?” Paul suggested and Jules looked up at him with a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay! Let’s go then.”

“Won’t he mind?”

“Nah. Besides, he’s not even here!” Paul told her with a wink, making Jules giggle excitedly at the idea of snooping around her brother’s bedroom.

            Paul felt the need to take a deep breath as he pushed open the door to John’s room. Too many memories belonged to this place. Too much had happened and now it was all different. The entire room smelled of John. Musky and something that reminded Paul a bit of caramel for some reason. Oh, and ciggies of course. Paint, ink, vinyl. It was still just as John had left it. Paper was scattered all over the place and his school bag stood still unpacked at his desk. Pieces of clothing lay pretty much everywhere and his bed was undone. His guitar still stood next to his bed.

Jules followed him inside, rubbing her hands together excitedly, obviously eager to rummage through everything and see what else he had except for her pencil sharpener.

“Only the sharpener, Jules!” Paul warned her quickly, and she nodded innocently, although Paul doubted she was honest with him. He chuckled at it, though, remembering the days he was going through Mike’s stuff when he was away when he thought he had a girlfriend or was doing something he wasn’t telling, or even the other way around. Still, Paul kept an eye on her as she went to his closet first, not wanting her to find anything that would give anything away about him and John, although he wasn’t sure she’d be able to find something. It was better to be save, than sorry.

Figuring the best place for a pencil sharpener was a desk, Paul walked over to John’s desk, smiling as he noticed the mess was even worse on there. There were books and paper everywhere. Smudges of ink and paint, coloured the wooden desk and there were dozens of broken pencils everywhere, but no sharpener. Paul picked up a few pieces of paper and smiled when he noticed John was writing a new song. It didn’t seem like much just yet, but at least he was trying. On a few others, were doodles and sketches and on one was a rather elaborate drawing of Cynthia. She was drawing herself, smiling a secretive smile and Paul could see John had put a lot of effort in the whole thing.

Putting everything aside, he noticed the notebook John had received from Stuart for his birthday. Curious, he looked behind him to see what Jules was up to. She had left the closet and was now searching through John’s school bag. He opened the notebook at the random page and started reading. The first couple of pages were really neat. The first page was John’s first song, _Hello Little Girl_. He had copied it down in a neat handwriting with little doodles around the lyrics. The next songs were some of John’s favourites and after that Paul could see he had tried to write his own. The further he got in the notebook, the messier it became. Eventually, he could not make out at all what John had been trying to do. There were doodles and snippets of lyrics (known and unknown) scattered across the pages, written mostly with a messy hand.

However, then Paul noticed John had drawn _him_ a few times as well. Rather comically, of course. He made fun of his feminine looks and his arse. Still, Paul was flattered and he felt his throat tightened as he looked at them. Some drawings looked like they belonged in a notebook of a school girl with a crush, but Paul didn’t care. He sighed deeply and skimmed further through the book, surprised by how much space John had already used in just those few months.

When he came by John’s sketches, he went to sit down on John’s bed, feeling himself get a little weak. One was of him, asleep, his hair a mess and with a silly smile on his face. Had John been drawing him secretly? Another was of him when he was younger, so he supposed John had seen it when they had been looking at photos together. Paul wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was obvious John had cared more about him then he had realised, if he had been drawing him so much.

“What are you reading?” Jules asked suddenly. Paul looked up at her with wide eyes, not having expected her to be standing right there in front of him. She blinked at him and looked down at the book in his hand, curious. Paul quickly closed it, realising that what he had been looking at had been personal. /He/ shouldn’t even be looking at this. Let alone his sister.

“It’s nothing. Just a book. Did you find it?” He asked quickly, pretending nothing was up. Jules seemed to buy it and showed him her red pencil sharpener. Paul smiled at the sight.

“That’s great! Now, go downstairs, okay. I don’t think John would like you being in here longer than needed.”

“But, how about you?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. Paul fought the urge to blush. After all, he wasn’t doing something wrong, exactly.

“I’ll be done soon, too. Don’t worry.” He told her and Jules nodded reluctantly, but left anyway, leaving Paul alone in John’s room. He sighed as she closed the door behind him and opened the  book again.

John was a great artist, he had to say. It was odd though, looking at these pictures John had drawn of him, seeing himself through John’s eyes. He had made him look prettier than he was. Less wrinkles, less grey in his hair, less old… His eyes shining up at him through the page, his eyelashes longer and his lips more pouty. Was this how John saw him? He swallowed thickly at the thought, not wanting to think too much about what that might mean.

Moving a bit further up the bed, his hand slipped under John’s pillow. His fingertips slid along something that felt like paper. Frowning, Paul reached a bit further and grabbed what he had found. He smiled weakly as he saw they were the photo’s he had giving John of himself. He had wondered what John had done with them, but to think John had kept them under his pillow, on which he slept every night… He swallowed thickly and refused to acknowledge the way his eyes seemed to burn up as he went through them, noticing John had nicked a few as well. Had John been looking at these a lot? He almost feared the answer to that question.

He went through them a couple of times, feeling his heart swell up as he began to realise more and more that he had meant much more to John than he had first thought. Wondering if there were more, he lifted up John’s pillow to find a ruffled piece of paper. It had been folded up, but it had John’s name on it. Paul recognized the handwriting immediately. He didn’t have to look to see what it said to know what it was, but he opened it nonetheless, wanting to be sure.

_John,_

_I still feel weird about what happened last night, and I understand if you’d rather continue what we started and forget it ever happened at all. But, I also want to say that I liked what happened last night, and I don’t know if that makes me a bad person, but I don’t care. Honestly, my mind is a mess and I think we should both think about what happened and make a decision when I get back from work._

_Paul_

_PS. You should continue the song you were writing. I think it has potential._

He could hardly believe it. John had kept it? All those weeks? Months? That one stupid letter he had written in a hurry, half afraid of what John might do when he woke up and remembered what had happened? What he had done? Had he been looking at it a lot? Paul wasn’t sure what to do. He could only sit there in silence and stare at the paper in his hands. His own words, his own handwriting.

John loved him. That was what this meant. He couldn’t deny it now. Not when he was looking him to blatantly in the eye. It was the only explanation. Oh dear, what had he done?

“Paul? Paul, dear?” Julia’s voice suddenly came from downstairs, breaking Paul’s trance. He realised he was crying, tears dripping from his chin onto the paper, blurring his words. Quickly, he folded it back up and pushed it back under John’s pillow with the photos.

“Paul!”

“Y-yeah! I… I’m coming, dear!” Paul quickly shouted back, his voice wavering. More tears kept falling, even when he wiped them all away with his hand. He was still crying.’

“Are you alright?”

“Yes! I’m fine. I’ll be right down!” Paul shouted, trying to calm himself as he stared at the wall before him, trying to grasp what this all meant. John loved him. Or he had. Before he had asked Julia to marry him. And… And he loved him, too. Fuck.

He jumped up in shock, grabbing his head with both hands as he cursed and yelled at himself in silence. What had he done? This wasn’t how it had meant to happen! It was all going wrong! He took a couple of deep breaths and rubbed his eyes, trying to make the tears stop coming. He pushed the thoughts as far away from his mind as possible, but they continued to come back, no matter how hard he tried.

“I’m coming.” Paul shouted again for no reason, but instead he only sat back down on John’s bed, head in his hands as he stared down at the carpet in John’s room, watching as dark patches continued to appear.

* * *

 

John awoke early that morning. He hadn’t meant to, but he supposed that was what happened when he spend the days lazying around Stuart’s apartment, doing hardly more than posing for Stuart or doing some drawing or writing of his own. He did not feel like spending anymore time on his mattress (he refused to call it a bed, much to Stuart’s annoyance), so he got up, swayed sleepily on his feet and stumbled over to a chair in the corner of his room, where a shirt and pair of trousers had been dumped the previous night. He grumbled something to himself as he sniffed at the shirt. Deciding it could do for another day, he pulled it over his head. With the pair of trousers, he had more trouble. They were too small for him, as they actually belonged to Stuart, but once they were on, it didn’t matter. He had gotten used to the tight fit.

When he walked into the living room, he heard Stuart was on the phone. He was speaking in a hushed tone. His forehead leaning against the wall, as he stared down at his bare feet. John grinned at the sight, his curiosity being piqued, and he silently tiptoed over. However, he had not even moved three steps, or he bumped against the couch with his knee with a loud thud, followed by angry curses and groans of pain. He grabbed his painful knee and stared down at it in anger. He could hear the tone in Stuart’s hushed voice change. Knowing Stuart had seen him, he looked up with a glare. Stuart was chuckling at his clumsiness as he continued to talk in the phone, looking eager the end the conversation.

As soon as Stuart ended the phone call and hung up the phone, John straightened out to speak.

“Who were you talking to, Stu? Seemed like you were eager to end it when you knew I was here. Not someone I know, was it?” He asked knowingly, wigging with his eyebrows suggestively. Stuart laughed at him, however, and shook his head.

“Don’t be stupid. Actually, it was that girl I had to kick out because you decided to be overly dramatic about something you knew was going to happen. I’ve been trying to make up to her since, but she doesn’t seem to pleased about what I’d done.” Stuart told him as he stumbled over to the couch, where his half-empty bowl of cereal was waiting for him.

“Low, Stu.” John grumbled back, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning, “And the girl ain’t worth it, dear. You should try boys. They put up with more shit.”

“No, thanks. I’m still good. Unless you’re offering that is.” John laughed at that and shook his head as he walked to the kitchen to get himself some breakfast as well, dragging his hurtful legs along with him.

“You wish, Sutcliffe.” He called back, still laughing, even when Stuart made a rude gesture at him. He was glad he had gone to Stuart. He was the best friend a guy could wish for. He understood he needed some time to figure things out and get over Paul. He didn’t mind him staying here as long as he needed for that as well. The jokes he made were just teasing. It actually helped and he found himself thinking less and less about Paul.

            He stepped into the kitchen and quickly put on the kettle to make himself a cup of tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he grabbed himself a bowl, Stuart’s cereal and some milk from the fridge. Quick and easy. It could almost be considered his motto. Giggling to himself like a naughty schoolboy, he made his breakfast, which he took back into the living room to eat with Stuart.

“John! What are you doing for New Year’s?” Stuart called at him, as he opened the kitchen door with his elbow, not having any free hands as he was carrying his breakfast. John frowned at the question, until he realised New Year’s was only two days away. He hadn’t paid any attention to the days of the week since he had taken over Stuart’s apartment. It hadn’t seem important, really.

“It’s just,” Stuart continued without waiting for an answer, “My mum called and asked me over, but I told her I was celebrating with some friend. I figured you wouldn’t feel like spending New Year’s at home now. Unless you have other plans, of course.”

“No, I’d like to celebrate here with you, if you’d let me join in with my sorry face, of course. .” John told him as he went to sit down next to Stuart. The older man laughed at that and took a bite from his cereal.

“John, dear, you are the friends.” He told him, still grinning as he looked down at a sketch in his lap. John chuckled at that sight. His friend was almost too obsessed with his art. If only he’d invest as much time in his bass.

“Right! Of course, I am. Thanks though, Stu.”

“No worries. But… you’re still not offering?” Stuart asked again and John quickly whacked him on the back of his head.

“Ouch! Okay, okay! I get it. No need to get violent.” He apologized, rubbing the painful spot at the back of his head as he glared at John, who only winked at him. “You wouldn’t mind posing for me again? I-I want to finish this drawing, you see.” Stuart asked hopefully and for a second John wondered if he had imagined the shy blush appearing on his friend’s cheeks. He smiled and nodded, not wanting to disappoint, and liking being useful without needing to do anything.

“Sure. Just let me finish breakfast and let me take a shower first. I smell like shit.”

            John felt his heart sink as he turned on the shower. He wasn’t good with being alone and not having anything to do. It made his brain switch on, making him think of all the thing he didn’t want to think about. And lately that had been Paul. It had been easy not to think about when Stuart was around to take his mind off him or when he had something else to focus on. But during showers and the night, thoughts of Paul came flooding back into his brain and heart. Thought that would have been pleasant, had he had them a few days ago, before all these things started happening. Before he had heard Paul and his mum were going to get married.

He remembered times they spend together, thought about what Paul would be doing and what they would be doing if they were together right now. He… missed him. Terribly. His heart felt heavy whenever he pictured him, smiling, wrinkles by his puppy eyes, cheeks rounding up, his hear falling before his eyes when he laughed a bit too loudly. He wished he could hear that laugh again, feel his breath against his skin as his fingers lightly caressed him. He just really missed him and at times like these it got too hard to ignore.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he started to undress and got under the shower. It had still been a bit cold, but it quickly got the right temperature and John sighed deeply as he felt his body relax and calmness wash over him. He wetted his hair and grabbed the bottle of shampoo to wash his hair. It would be best not to spend too much time in here. He needed to get over Paul. That was why he was here. And he wasn’t going to do that by remembering all the great times they had had together. How good Paul had made him feel, mentally and physically.

Biting his lip, he messaged some shampoo on his hair, trying to block out the memories when he had Paul had showered together. How it good it had felt when Paul had washed his hair for him. But he couldn’t help himself. He wished Paul was here. That they could spend more time together like before and ignore the fact that what they were doing was wrong and messed-up. He wished he could just go home, apologize and kiss the older man again, feel his hands on him again, his body pressed against his own, like back then in the shower. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel him, pressed against his naked back, hands in his hair, massaging him and making him feel good as he cleaned him, warm breath in John’s neck, whispered praises ghosting over his ear, making him shudder. His cock slowly-

NO! His eyes shot open as he realised what he was doing, but it was already too late. His cock twitched eagerly with interest and John bit his lip as he stubbornly removed his hands from his hair and turned to wash away the soap, ignoring his dick that was still growing. He wasn’t going to do it. He had to be strong. If he gave in he was weak and he’d never get any where. He couldn’t wank. Not now. Not to Paul. If he did that he was done for and it would take twice as long to get over him. Besides, he wasn’t even in the mood. It was just his body being annoying.

But he couldn’t help himself. His erection just wouldn’t go down. Not even after he washed his hair for a second time- he had been too focused on not wanking that he hadn’t noticed he was picking up the shampoo again until it was too late. Eventually, feeling frustrated and annoyed, he lowered his hand to his cock and took himself in hand. He whined when he accidentally squeezed himself a little too hard in his frustration, but the touch alone had already made him feel so much better.

He tried to direct his thoughts away from Paul and to something or someone else, but he couldn’t find anything. He tried to imagine someone nameless. Just a hot body. And for a bit it seemed to work. He imagined himself in front of the nameless man, both naked and caressing every inch of his body as the nameless guy did the same as him, his hands moving down his chests to his arse, squeezing and pulling lightly. John groaned as he did the same to himself and sped up his hand on his cock, imagining it was another guys hand, his grasp firm as his calloused fingers rubbed the head. Fuck, it felt good.

He hadn’t touched himself at all since he had ran away, mostly because he didn’t feel like it, but also because the memories of him and Paul were still too fresh in his mind. And now, to finally feel that wonderful pleasure again, to feel that pressure building up again and feel how his body gave into it and let itself be drifted off… it felt so good.

The other man’s fingers moved further down, moving towards the rim of John’s hole and curious fingers started to lightly circle it, gently probing and feeling how it fluttered under the teasing touch. John let out a deep groan and absent-mindedly started to press back against his fingers, having missed that feeling of having something inside of him, feeling full and enjoying that stranger, yet pleasurable feeling when something rubbed along the spot inside of him. He couldn’t help but think back to when Paul had first done that to him. How good his fingers had felt when John had finally gotten used to it. How sweet and gentle Paul had been with him that first time, even before he had known John had never done that. And god, that memory along was enough to make John come, his orgasm suddenly ripping through him with a soft cry from John’s throat.

His legs gave out at the intensity of it, pressure having been build up over days, and he fell to his knees, panting loudly as he caught his breath, his brain only slowly catching up to what had just happened. He swallowed thickly and tried to force back the tears that had started to come back up. He missed Paul. Not just because of the sex, but he missed having him close, feeling his breath, his warmth, his heart beating under his palm. How he always made sure John was okay and he missed having him with him now. He wished he was here, coming to sit down on the tiled floor next to him, wrapping an arm around him and telling it was all going to be fine and that would work it out. John didn’t want to get over Paul. He wanted to be with him. But he couldn’t. It was selfish to want it. Paul wanted a family. He wanted to be with the person he loved and live a happy life. Grow old and see his children grow up too. See them get married. Eventually having some grandchildren. He could never offer him that. He could not ask Paul to give up that wish for him. So he had to get over him. He had to try. However hard it was and however much it hurt. But he so wished he didn’t have to.

            “John? Are you okay?” Stuart asked as soon as John stepped back into the living room. He shrugged and moved to sit on the couch. He didn’t want to talk about what happened. It was useless to talk about it. He knew what he had to do. And he knew it was going to take him awhile. He had hoped he had been doing well, but he wasn’t going to give up because of one break down. He could do this. For Paul. He deserved to be happy.

“I’m fine, Stu. Now, get your stuff and get drawing.” John tried to say light-heartedly, but it came out more annoyed then playful. Stuart frowned, but nodded anyway and stood up to get his stuff as John laid down on the couch like last time. He stared up at the white ceiling as he listened to Stuart moving about the apartment.

“Stu?”

“Yeah, John?” Stuart called back. He sounded further away than John had first thought.

“Could I… Could I live with you? You know, after this. I mean. I don’t think I’ll want to stay at home with mum and Paul getting married. It gets a bit crowded. And mum already told me it was fine if I wanted to move out.” John asked, chewing his lip nervously as he turned his head to see Stuart emerging from their bedroom with all his stuff. He smiled kindly when he saw John looking.

“Yeah… sure.” He replied and John smiled back thankfully, “Now, look at me. I’ll sit in this chair and you won’t be moving without my say so. Keep your eyes on me.” Stuart jumped into his chair and curled up his legs as he placed his sketchbook in his lap. He had already sketched over the rough drawing he had done before in his notebook, John noticed. Stuart looked up at John and frowned a bit, deciding on what to do best.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about?” Stuart asked again and John replied with a curt “no”. “Right. move your legs up a bit. Let your left hang over the other and relax your body.” John did as he was asked and averted his eyes from his friend as he moved about, needing it.

“No, that’s not. Relax your fingers, but don’t leave them slack.” Stuart said, nodding into the direction of John’s left hand. John tried, but couldn’t relax them anymore than they already were.

“No. Let me do it.” Stuart stopped him. He placed his pencil between his teeth and jumped off his chair. He knelt by John and started to lightly manipulate the way he was lying with soft, yet firm touches.

“You’re only going to do my face and torso, right?” John asked when Stuart started messing with his feet as well, not understanding what different that would make.

“Yes, of course.” Stuart answered, acting like what he was doing made perfect sense. When he looked back up to John, he frowned and studied him a bit more carefully as he crawled over to his face. John blushed under his intense stare, but Stuart pretended not the notice.

“Relax, John. You’re all tense. Even your face look set. Here…” Stuart told him and slowly raised his hand and started to lightly touch John’s face, caressing him with his finger tips, tracing his bottom lip with his pinkie and moving some hairs out of his face as he caressed his chin. Remarkable, John slowly felt his body relax and be moulded into the exact position Stuart wanted him in. How he did it, John didn’t know. The guy had artistic fingers, probably. John didn’t doubt he’d be a good sculptor too.

“Haha! Thanks, John. Now, don’t move and stay relaxed, yeah?” He asked and John smiled, before moving his mouth back in the right position. He moved Stuart with his eyes as the older man hurried back to his chair and climbed back into it, taking on his former position again. When he looked at John and their eyes locked he smiled and John felt an oddly familiar warmth spread through his chest.

            Stuart worked in silence occasionally looking up at John and staring at him with such a penetrating gaze, it made John want to move away, but he didn’t. He stayed where he was and tried to remain relaxed under Stuart’s gaze, as his eyes took in every detail of his body and face. It was difficult though. He wasn’t used to be looked at like that anymore. It had been so long since he had last posed for Stuart and the last person to look at him with all his attention was Paul. It was strange and he tried not to give the fact too much thought as he tried to lay still.

“Your eye is twitching.” Stuart remarked in a dull tone as his fingers made some very quick moves on the paper. John blinked a few times and raised a finger to rub into eye to make it stop.

“Sorry.” He muttered, actually feeling a little relieved he could look away for a little while.

“It’s fine. Just letting you know you are allowed to move if your body starts complaining. Like blinking.”

“Right…” John mumbled, chuckling at himself for not having realised, “I’ll be good now.”

“You better, Lennon. Or I’ll have to throw you out.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Stuart replied with a wink, making John chuckle again as he tried desperately not to and keep a straight face so Stuart could continue. He was growing a little peckish.

            That evening, as John and Stuart lay on their respective mattresses, John couldn’t help but think about Paul again, wondering what he was doing. Would he be worried about him? Would he be out looking for him? And his mum? What was she thinking? And little Jules. She probably didn’t have a clue what was going on.

Tears were burning behind his eyes again as he thought about them. He wanted to go home. He liked being with Stu, but honestly I just wanted to go home. Talk to Paul and try to work it out together. Perhaps all  things weren’t lost. They had made it through so far, hadn’t they? Granted, that was mostly because they had chosen to ignore everything else around them, but there had to be a way, hadn’t there? He loved Paul. He still did after all these days and it hurt not seeing him or hearing his voice again. He had been so used to Paul coming to his room in the evenings for some privacy that he missed being tucked in by him, however childish that sounded. And the evening he had fallen asleep with Paul still next to him, his arms wrapped around him, or playing with his hair. He missed seeing those beautiful hazel eyes before he slowly drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Looking over at Stuart, he bit his lip. Today had been a strange type of day. It might have been his imagination, but he thought Stuart had been flirting with him. More so than their usual flirty comments which didn’t mean anything. He was probably imagining it. He longed to feel Paul’s body against his and kiss him and feel him close again and feel his eyes on him, so perhaps he had just sort of subconsciously replaced the thought of Paul with Stuart? He sighed deeply and rolled back onto his back so he was looking away from Stuart. But what if he did like him? Maybe… maybe all John needed to help him get over Paul was someone else. To feel loved by someone else.

“John?” A hushed voice came from the other mattress. John turned his head again and his eyes locked on Stuart’s. “You’ve been missing him, haven’t you?” He asked and John shrugged, not able to speak for fear he might start crying. “That’s okay, you know.”

“I know. I- I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.” John replied, stammering as he fought the urge to simple let the tears roll. “I can’t get him out of my head.” Some ruffling sounded from Stuart’s mattress. It was almost completely dark in the room and John could barely make out Stuart getting up, gathering his pillow and crawling over to where John was lying.

“Move over a bit.” Stuart whispered and John did so without thinking twice and already felt better when he felt Stuart’s body pressing against his. He couldn’t help but chuckle, though.

“Not very tough and rock ‘n roll, is it? Come on, Stu, we’re supposed to be tough teddy boys, don’t you remember?”

“Oh, stop whining, you queer. Out of the two of you, you should be the least worried about sleeping next to another man.” Stuart shot back as he made himself comfortable under John’s sheets, his pillow next to John’s. The younger man couldn’t help but smile, feeling touched his friend would do this for him. That he had somehow felt that this is what he needed.

“Thanks, Stu.” John whispered, leaning a little into Stuart and closing his eyes with a deep sigh, feeling his body slowly relax like before on the couch. Stuart turned his head and smiled back at him. John expected him to say something like “don’t worry about it” or something like it, but instead, he said something that made John’s body tense up again.

“You should call him, you know. Tell him where you are. Maybe let him know what’s going on. I mean… he must be worried about you. If he cares as much about you as you do about him.”

“I don’t know, Stu. I- I need some time, you know.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Stu.”

“I’m just saying it would be nice for them to know you are okay.”

“I know… I- I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks John.” Stuart whispered, leaning a little close to John, letting his head rest against John’s shoulder, his mop of hair tickling John’s skin. John swallowed thickly. He wasn’t sure why he did what he was going to do next, but he did it. Perhaps it was hope. Or desperation. Perhaps he was only confused. Or in fact hopeless and unsure what else to do. He hoped it just felt right.

“Stu?”

“Hmm?” Stuart replied, raising his head to look up at him. John could see him much better now up close, and even if it was dark and he didn’t have his glasses on, he saw Stuart’s eyes were shining slightly, his lips parted and there was a slight blush on his cheeks. John simply looked at him for a while, daring himself to just do it, before slowly leaning in. Stuart frowned at the movement, but didn’t say anything, not even when John cocked his head slightly to the side and he could feel his breath on his lips. John took one last deep breath, before finally closing the distance between them and tentatively touching Stuart’s lips with his own, feeling how they trembled against him and the hot blood pumping through them.

Stuart gasped at the feeling of John’s lips against his own, and he gently placed his hands on John’s chest, allowing him to kiss him. Encouraged, John muttered Stuart’s name and pressed down a bit harder, feeling his heart start to pump faster and faster as his brain clouded over. It felt good kissing someone again. Feeling another man’s body against his own that wasn’t Paul’s. It was refreshing, but… not quite right. Frustrated with himself, he pressed down harder and placed a hand on Stuart’s shoulder, pulling him closer as his kiss grew more aggressive. At this, Stuart’s body went rigid against his and he started to pull away.

“John. John! For fuck’s sakes, stop!” Stuart told him sternly as he pushed John away with his hands at hist chest, finally managing to break free. John opened his eyes again, not having realised he had closed them and started at Stuart, perplexed as he took in his shocked expression. He was looking John over with wide eyes as he moved further away from him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He asked him forcefully.

“Shit! Fuck, Stu. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t you? I fucking doubt that John! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Stu, I was just…”

“No. Fuck no, John! I don’t… I don’t want _this_. What they hell made you think that was okay! I told you I don’t like men. God.”  

“Stu, please?” John asked, shocked by how small his voice sounded, but Stuart shook his head and quickly got up, shaking his head. He grabbed his things and quickly hurried back to his own bed. John groaned as he watched him leave, feeling so incredibly stupid for having done that. What _had_  he been thinking?! He was a fucking idiot! So damn stupid! Fuck, he didn’t even deserve Paul or Stuart or anyone, did he? Fuck, what was wrong with him.

In a sudden rush of anger at himself and guilt, he raised to his feet, grabbed his own clothes from a corner in the room and started changing. Stuart sat up on his own mattress, staring at him as he undressed.

“What are you doing?!” He asked, sounding honestly confused. John snorted at that as he stepped into his trousers and pulled them up, angrily tightening his belt to hold them up as he reached for his shirt, too.

“Leaving.”

“What? You can’t leave!”

“Can’t I?”

“John! Don’t be fucking stupid! Where would you go?” He asked, sounding both angry and concerned. Honestly, John didn’t care anymore where he would go. As long as he couldn’t fuck things up anymore. He had fucked up enough. Paul, Stuart, Cynthia… Ringo probably would have been famous by now if he weren’t stuck in his little amateur band.

“I’ll find somewhere.” He shot back at Stuart for the lack of a better answer.

“Don’t be stupid, John. You can stay here. You just made a mistake, is all. Get back in bed and sleep first. You’re panicking.”

“Piss off, Stu. I’ll see you around, I guess.” John mumbled as he fixed his hair in Stuart’s mirror, before walking out of the door.

“John!” Stuart called after him, but John didn’t listen. He just wanted to leave. He quickly put on his shoes and grabbed his coat, before stepping out of Stuart’s apartment, shutting out Stuart’s voice, which was still ordering him to stupid acting like an idiot and get back to bed, by slamming the door loudly shut behind him. Not looking back, he hurried towards the stairs and quickly ran down them. He just needed to get out of here. He needed to think. Or something. He didn’t know what he needed anymore. But he sure as hell didn’t need to stay here any longer. God, he was so fucking stupid.


	18. Chapter 18

It was quiet in the bedroom as Paul and Julia changed for the night. Ever since John had ran away, things had been tense between them. Julia had been worried about John, of course, and Paul had as well, but he couldn’t let on too much for fear of her finding out he was feeling more for him than was normal for a guy who had only just met him a few months ago. It had resulted into a lot of tension, which sometimes caused some light falling outs, which were very quickly resolved with an apology, but it didn’t do much good to their relationship. Time they spend alone was mostly like this. Filled with silence. Not out of uncomfortableness per se,  but more for the lack of subjects to talk about.

Paul sighed deeply as he sat down on the edge of the bed to undo his tie. Julia didn’t say anything as she pulled her sleeping shirt (one of Paul’s old ones) over her head and slid into bed, her back turned to her fiancé. He turned his head to look at her and chewed his lip, wondering if he should try to comfort her or if she would push him away again. He pulled his tie from his neck and let it fall onto the floor, not feeling like cleaning it up, and moved his hands to take off his shirt. He had only just shrugged it off when he heard the faint ringing from the phone downstairs. Stirred behind him, raising her head to hear if she had heard it right. When the phone rang again, they looked at each other.

“I’ll get it. It’s probably nothing.” Paul told her, but he didn’t believe it himself. His throat suddenly felt very dry, but no matter how much he swallowed, it didn’t go away. He got up and hurried as quietly as he could out of the room, down the corridor and down the stairs, not wanting to wake little Jules up, who was vast asleep in her own bed.

As soon as he caught sight of the phone however, his movements slowed, feeling anxious about what he might hear. What if it was John? He forced himself to stop playing with the leg of his underwear as he approached the phone. It was still ringing loudly. He took a deep breath, readying himself, and picked up the phone.

“H-hello?” Paul asked, his voice unintentionally soft. Thankfully, the person on the other end seemed to have heard him.

“Mr McCartney? Is that you?” It was Stuart. Paul sighed in relieve, not knowing what he would have done if it had been John. He leaned with one hand against the wall as he scraped his throat to answer.

“Stuart! Yes, it’s me. Why are you calling? Is… is everything alright?” Paul asked, his eyes snapping open as he started to wonder why in God’s name Stuart would be calling him in the middle of the night. Behind him, Paul could hear some light stumbling upstairs and the stairs creak. He turned it head and saw Julia slowly descending the stairs. She had pulled on her bathrobe.

“Erm… no. Not exactly. It’s about John…. He-”

“What is it with John? Did something happen?”

“He’s fine. Or… I think he is. We er… we had a fight and well… John ran off. He just ran out of the door with everything he had and I don’t know where he is.” Stuart explained, stumbling over his own words and sounding worried. Paul’s heart jumped with hope at his words, though.

“Did he- Did it sound like he could be coming home?” He couldn’t help but ask, but when Stuart sighed, his heart fell. He didn’t even have to hear his words to know the answer.

“No. It didn’t sound like it. I- I just thought you ought to know.”

“Right. Thank you, Stuart. It was erm… good of you to call.” Paul said, his voice thick as he felt the urge to hit something out of frustration. Instead, he swallowed it down. “Keep us updated. You know, in case he comes back.” Paul finished and didn’t wait for an answer as he moved to hang up the phone. There was nothing more for him to know.

“Paul! Paul wait! I-” When he heard Stuart’s voice coming rather anxiously out of the receiver, however, he put the horn back against his ear. “John. He likes you a lot. He…” Stuart paused to take a deep breath, “He told me he loved you.” Paul felt his heart stop at Stuart’s words, knowing the younger man wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. The corners of his lips curled up in a sad smile, and he felt his stomach flutter at the thought. He nodded.

“Thanks, Stuart. I’ll err… I’ll keep in touch in case we know more. I’m going to call around to see if anyone has seen him.”

“Right. Thanks.”  Stuart replied, before hanging up the phone. Paul followed his example and turned to look at Julia, who had come to stand next to him, her face full of questions. Paul thought it better to just be straight with her.

“John ran away.” He said and Julia gasped, “He and Stuart had a fight and… well… he ran away. I’m going to call some people. Ask if they’ve seen him.” Julia nodded and looked down at the floor. Paul laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him.

“It’s going to be fine. Go upstairs. I’ll be there soon.” He told her and Julia nodded, but didn’t leave. Paul gave her a gentle smile before leaning in and placing a light comforting kiss on her forehead. She smiled back and nodded once more, before turning around to go back up to their bedroom. She hadn’t even left yet, or Paul had grabbed the phone again. He’d call Cynthia first.

            It was dark and quiet on the streets. It was half past eleven, so he really shouldn’t have expected any differently, but the fact that there was no one around, save two cats he had seen running by, made him feel even more alone. He felt so stupid. What had he been thinking kissing Stuart?! More importantly, what had he been thinking running away?! Again?! He had just lost the only place where he could have stayed to get over Paul and start over. Where would he go now? He couldn’t go back home. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He supposed he could go to Cynthia or Ringo. But both were still living with their parents and he doubted they would be very pleased with him turning up on their doorstep in the middle of the night. What was he going to do?

He should never have kissed Stuart. It had been a stupid thing to do. He knew Stuart wasn’t into men and still he had gone and fucking kissed him anyway. What had he even expected!? John grabbed his head with both hands and groaned loudly out of frustration. He had been an idiot for thinking Stuart would kiss him even a split second. And now he had cocked up that relationship as well, hadn’t he? He was going to die alone, wasn’t he?

John straightened himself out and took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, taking in the chilly night air. He was overreacting. Stuart wouldn’t hate him for just one kiss. Stuart had said so himself, he had made a mistake. He was overemotional and confused about Paul and had kissed Stuart because he thought it was the thing to do. Stuart and he were great pals. They wouldn’t separate just because of one stupid little incident. He would just have to apologize to him. Yes, that was it.

But now for more important issues, John thought as he looked around the streets, where would he go? He was near the docks again and there was a little pub that had a spare room. He knew the owner from when he had played a gig there ones. Maybe he could stay there? Except, he didn’t have any money. Deciding it was his only hope though, he walked into the direction of the docks again.

As the air grew colder and saltier, John felt himself relax a little. Some fresh air was doing him good and the prospect of perhaps a warm bed was very welcoming. Even around the docks it was quiet. There were very people on the streets and John met only one drunk on his way to the pub. As he went in, he sighed at the familiar, comforting smell of cigarettes, alcohol and sweat. When he asked for a room, however, his relatively good mood was spoilt once again as the owner laughed in his face. What had he been thinking, trying to rent a room without any money. Frustrated and angry, John left the pub and went to sit in a dark alley, watching the waves roll over the water. The cold coming off from the street and the bricks, worked it’s way through his clothing, making John shiver, but he stubbornly remained where he was. He didn’t have anywhere else to go anyway. Maybe tomorrow. When everyone was awake again, he could try to convince Cyn to let him stay with her. It was a good a plan as any, and the best he was going to get. He yawned and closed his eyes briefly.

            He was awoken again abruptly by someone kicking against his leg. John groaned and tried to kick the thing away, but before he had been able to scare it away, his ankle was grabbed by a strong, calloused hand.

“Wake up, pretty boy.” A low, dark voice said with a snicker. Annoyed, John opened his eyes, ready to give the man his best glare, but he felt himself unable to as he saw a rather muscled, large-looking man looking down at him with a grin. He was wearing a blue and white striped shirt, a leather jacket and a pair of black jeans. He had quite the stubble. He didn’t look like a man who you’d want to upset, although he wasn’t ugly either. Just… intimidating. Strong. Tough.

“How much, darling?” The man asked, still wearing that grin. John frowned at the question, not understanding what the man was talking about. It must have shown, for the man laughed heartedly, his chest heaving with the force of it.

“Don’t worry, lad. I’m no cop. I won’t tell. Just want a little something before I head back to sea. I’m sure understand. So drop the fucking act.” John’s eyes grew wide as he slowly began to understand what the man was implying. He looked around hastily, checking to see if there was anyone around to save him, but they were alone. He wondered what time it was.

“I-I’m not…” John started, but the man wouldn’t have it.

“Oh don’t start. Of course, you are. Now, how much? I don’t have all day.”

“I’m telling the truth!” John snapped, sitting up and trying to tug his foot lose from the other man’s iron grip. He only hurt himself as he twisted his leg wrongly.

“You sure, boy? Looks like you might need a little somethin’. And I got it, see?” The man asked, nodding with his head into the direction of the pub as he pulled out some money from his pocket. John eyed the money hungrily. Truth be told, he was incredibly cold and he’d do anything for a warm bed, a nice whiskey and perhaps a bath.

“Twenty.” John muttered, still eyeing the money. He knew what he was asking was ridiculous, but it was worth the shot, right? The man, however, simply laughed in his face and twisted his leg a little, making John whine at the slight pain he was causing.

“But I’m asking so nicely. Besides, it’s only a damn blowjob. I just need to pay for your pretty mouth.”

“Ten.” John replied, hissing through his teeth. He sighed in relief when the guy finally let go of him with a content huff.

“Yeah. That’ll do. Come on. Don’t want to get caught now, do you?” The man asked and offered John a hand, which he refused. He clambered back onto his feet and looked the other man dead in the eye, before walking further down the alley way, feeling the man’s eyes on him as he walked. At least he was going to get some good money out of it. And perhaps this would help him take his mind of Paul. Help him get over him. And he’d get a warm bed, whiskey and bath out of it. That was good. And he’d be left with a little more to spend. It could be worse.

            “Yeah. Here will do. Now, get on your knees, darling. You got a name, by the way?” The man asked after some time and John stopped walking right away, knowing better to piss off this guy. He could break him in two if he wanted, John was certain.

“No.” He replied as he turned around the face the other man and went down on his knees. The man huffed and stepped forward, cupping John’s cheek in his hand and pulling him a bit closer. John went with him easily.

“Clever boy, aren’t you? Well, fine. Not like I’ll be needing one, anyway. And you’d better be worth those ten bucks, darling.”

“Don’t call me darling.” John tried, but the man laughed again as his fingers moved to work on the buttons of his trousers. John watched them attentively, feeling his own crotch react with anticipation.

“It’s that or a name, darling. You decide.” He said as he stuck his hand down his pants and pulled out his eight inch dick. It was only half hard, but John decided not to waste any time. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and leaned in, wrapping his lips around the man’s member and sucking it into his mouth, moaning as he did so. The man above him groaned and moved the hand on John’s cheek into his hair to pull and encourage him to go on. John looked up and faked a moan again, being pleased to see the man’s eyes were closed. At least he was doing something good.

The man’s cock tasted horrible, though. Of sweat and salt and John could hardly even enjoy the taste of his pre-cum. The man drunk too much alcohol. He closed his eyes and put everything he had in the blowjob, wanting this guy to come quick, hand him his money and go away, so he could get into bed already.

“Oh yes, boy. That’s good. Suck a good little slut you are, darling. Yeah, suck that dick, come on.” The guy moaned softly as he forced John further down his cock, forcing him to take everything into his mouth and down his throat. John gagged slightly on it, but kept still as he willed his gag-reflex to relax. When the man finally pulled his hand away, he moved off a bit to swallow, not taking the guy’s cock out of his mouth. He moved a hand up to cup the man’s balls and massaged them as he sucked him off as best as he could.

Thankfully, he soon the guy started to become a lot more talkative as the guy’s dick twitched into his mouth, signally John he was on the right track. Just a bit more.

“Fuck yeah. Swallow it, darling. Come on and make me come, you whore.” The man groaned, pulling at John’s hair again, but John didn’t mind the abuse. If anything it made it better. Like he wasn’t himself in that moment, but someone else. Like he could disappear for a while. Then suddenly, the guy thrusted forward, forcing his dick all the way down John’s throat, making him gag, as he came, squirting his cum down John’s throat, leaving him with little choice but to swallow and drink it.

“Yes! Oh yes! So good, darling. Drink it. Fuck.” He groaned and John tried his best to do as he told, swallowing as much as he could, trying to drink it all down. As soon as the man stopped coming, he pulled out, leaving John gasping as he fell forward due to the lack of support, holding himself up with his hands. The man simply watched him with amusement as he tucked himself back into his trousers. When John looked up at him, he noticed the man had lit a smoke, but made no movement to give him his money. He coughed one last time and wiped his mouth as he sat up on his knees again.

“And?” He asked, his voice rough and almost inaudible. The other man shrugged as he put his lighter back in his pocket.

“Had better. Still, not bad lad. Your daddy taught you right.” John felt his stomach churn at the “daddy” bit, images of Paul shooting through his brain again. What would he think of him if he knew what he had just done. Feeling nauseous and disappointed with himself, John looked up at the man and held up his hand. The man laughed again and John felt like he wasn’t being taken seriously.

“Well? Pay up!” He told the man firmly, surprising even himself. The man chuckled again and shook his head.

“Apparently he didn’t teach you too well. Didn’t he tell you: payment first, sex second?”

“Fuck off!” John shot at him and the man laughed again, aggravating John. He got to his feet and raised his hand to hit the man, but his fist hadn’t even moved yet, or he was stopped. The man grabbed him by his neck, and forced him high up the wall, too high for comfort.

“You shouldn’t have done that, darling.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh you stupid teenagers. Thinking your so tough. What do you call yourself. Teddy boys? Fucking laughable that is!” The man spat him in the face. John tried to kick him in the balls, but the man’s reflexes were too quick. He pushed John’s leg down again and raised his fist and let it connect hard with John’s eye. John groaned and reached for his eye as he cried out. Laughing, the man dropped him back onto the floor, kicked him in the ribs once for good measure, before getting out his wallet and throwing John a five pound bill.

“You’re fucking pathetic.” The man shot at him one last time, before turning around and walking away, leaving John on the ground, lightly touching his bruised eye and side. Once he was certain he wasn’t too badly hurt, he sat back up, ready to growl and shout at the man, but he had already left.

            “Well well! Long time no see, eh, John?” A faintly familiar voice sounded from behind him. Surprised, John turned around swiftly, only to be met by soft blue eyes, which looked almost grey in the night, and a mop of fluffy short dirty blond hair. The guy was chewing on his lip as he looked down at him, his arms crossed before his chest. Only when he saw his neat shoes, did he recognize him.

“Eric?” He asked, perplexed to see him at this hour in a dark alley. The man smiled shyly at him and nodded, before stepping closer and offering John a hand.

“Why is that every time I see you, you’re covered in blood at the end of the night?” Eric joked as he pulled John to his feet. John didn’t know what to say to that so he reached for his money and pocketed it. “Still no luck with the girls I take it?”

“Nor the guys. As you might have noticed.” John answered bitterly, refusing to look back up and meet Eric’s eye. The other man hummed in response as he looked John up and down.

“What were you thinking?” He asked as he shook his head in disapproval. John couldn’t help but smirk a little at the familiar question.

“You know, I’ve been asking myself that a lot this evening.”

“I can tell. Are you alright? Not dizzy or anything? Nauseous? That guy hit you pretty hard.” Eric asked by John shook his head. When he realised he was still holding on to Eric’s supporting hand, let quickly let go, but found himself wobbling on his feet. “Perhaps a bit, eh? Come on. Let’s get you home.” Eric told him as he pulled John against his side and wrapped an arm around him, letting John lean on him.

“Not home.” John replied weakly, suddenly not feeling to well, “Cynthia’s. She’ll let me in.”

“You tell me where to go and I’ll make sure we’ll get there.” Eric replied with a kind smile and John smiled back with a soft thank you, feeling blessed to have ran into Eric.

            John watched in silence as Eric threw a few rocks at Cynthia’s window. He hadn’t asked what time it was, but he was certain she would let him in. She was a light sleeper anyway, and he was hard to ignore when he really wanted something. Sure enough, Cynthia’s hand suddenly appeared in the window, offering them her middle finger, before disappearing again. Not a minute later, the front door opened.

“What the hell do you want? Do you have any idea wha- oh!” Cynthia started, but broke off in surprise when she noticed Eric. He smiled shyly at her and raised his hand as a little greeting, which she absent-mindedly returned as she tried to figure out who he was. When she noticed John, however, she forgot about the strange boy at her doorstep, too.

“John! What happened to you? Your eye!” She exclaimed and rushed over to him, cupping his head in her hands to examine him. John flinched at her touch and pulled away quickly.

“Can we do this inside, please? It’s kind of freezing out here.” He told her and Cynthia quickly nodded as she grabbed his hand and let him inside. Eric followed them and closed the door behind them, before following John and Cynthia into the kitchen.

Cynthia sat John down at the table as she muttered something about getting some stuff and went out again. Eric sat down on a chair with John as he looked around the room. John was too occupied with his eye to notice him.

“She seems nice.” Eric noted after a few seconds of silence. John nodded with a sigh.

“She is. Listen, I’m sorry for dragging you here. I’m sure you had things to do.” John said, but Eric shook his head.

“No, I didn’t. I live nearby and I like taking a walk when I can’t sleep. Still, I was surprised to see you…” He said, not finishing his sentence. John flushed a light pink, but decided not to ask how much he had seen. Instead, he didn’t say anything as he waited for Cynthia to get back.

            “Okay. Hold still. This might sting a little.” Cynthia whispered as she raised the cloth with alcohol. John inched away a little, but she grabbed his leg tightly and forced him to remain seated. Eric took a hold of John’s shoulder’s to help her. She smiled up at him and muttered a shy thank you, as she lightly pressed the cloth against John’s eye.

She was sitting on a chair in front of John, wearing nothing more than her night gown, but she didn’t seem very uncomfortable with two men in her kitchen, wearing so little. She worked carefully, pressing gently with a steady hand and pulling away when John flinched. The skin around John’s eye was a little broken and needed cleaning. The alcohol burned against his wound, but John tried to hold still and let Cynthia do what she thought was best. When she pulled away, he sighed in relief, but it had been false alarm, as she grabbed his hands and started to disinfect them as well. John hissed at the pain and bit his lip, but kept silent as he endured the sting.

There was a soft knock on the door and Cynthia tensed up for a brief moment, before putting the cloth on the table. She looked up at the boys and told them she’d be right back as she stood up from her chair and went to open the door. Eric and John shared some questioning looks, and waited curiously to see who it was. John nearly fell off his chair when Cynthia came back with the man at the door.

“Paul?! What the fuck is he doing here?” He asked, jumping up from his chair. Eric moved away quickly, feeling that whatever was happening wasn’t a good thing. Paul took a step back and looked down at the floor as he played with the material of his scarf, which he was holding in his hand. Cynthia took a step forward, protecting Paul in case John would decide to attack him as she looked him dead in the eye.

“I called him here, John. And he’s going to take you home.”

“Fuck no!” John said, almost laughing, but he fell silent when Cynthia glared at him.

“Yes, he is. Where else would you go? And besides, your mum and him have been worried sick about you! You’re acting like a little kid and you’re going home, John.”

“Shit, Cyn. Can’t I stay with you?” he tried, but Cynthia shook her head. She seemed to be resolute and John swallowed thickly, knowing he didn’t have a choice. He looked up at Paul, who smiled at him carefully, obviously feeling rather awkward here and John tried to ignore the little jump his heart made at the sight of it.

* * *

 

John didn’t say anything as he stepped out of the house into the cold. The icy wind was rushing through his hair, making him shiver. Eric and Paul followed him, both keeping a close eye on him in case he wanted to run for it. Not that he wanted to. He had no where else to go at this late hour. Cynthia followed a little later, a coat that was far too large for her thrown over her shoulders. She had betrayed him. She of all people had betrayed him and called Paul, while she knew John hadn’t wanted that. He could hardly believe such treachery. It was as if everyone was against him.

Next to him, Paul and Cynthia were softly talking to each other and John could feel their eyes digging into his back. He looked the other way at Eric, who was looking a little awkward. When their eyes met they smiled at each other.

“Thanks, by the way. For saving me.” John whispered softly at him, his smile broadening when Eric laughed.

“I hardly saved your life, but you’re welcome. I er… I liked seeing you again. In spite of the circumstances, of course. We didn’t exactly part on the best term last times.” He said and John quickly looked down at his shoes, suddenly feeling embarrassed about that.

“Yeah… sorry about that.”

“No, it’s okay. And just so you know… I’m not judging you. He seems nice.” Eric said, nodding into the direction of Paul. John’s eyes went wide at that, making Eric chuckle again. “You’re both kind of obvious, you know. If you know what to look for, that is. But I’m serious. People will always condemn any of our relationships, no matter the circumstances, so… yeah.”

“Right…” John replied, looking away from Paul again and down at his shoes. Before either he or Eric could say anything more, however, Paul called out for him.

“Come, John. We’re going home.” He said to him and John flinched. He didn’t want to go home and certainly not in Paul’s car. Alone with him. He couldn’t deal with that yet. Still, with a guiding hand on his shoulder from Eric, he walked over to the car, where Paul reached out for him. John pushed his hand away and quickly walked over to the passenger seat and climbed into the car. He needed his space. He could hear Paul thanking Cynthia and Eric for their help, before opening the door and getting into the car as well. John took a deep breath, feeling weird now he was so close to Paul again. He only had to reach out and they’d be touching. He looked away and out of the window, not saying goodbye to the other two, as Paul started the car and drove off.

            It was almost completely dark in the car as they drove through the city. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet and the silence between the two men was deafening. John tried to control his nerves by staring out of the window, up into the starry night sky, but it wasn’t helping much. The full moon lay high in the sky, shining down on them. It looked strangely lonely up there, even when it was surrounded by millions of stars.

Paul let out an aspirated sigh, trying to get John’s attention, but the younger man steadfastly ignored him. He wasn’t ready to talk. To hear the truth. He wasn’t even ready to be here right now, alone with Paul. He should never have kissed Stuart. If he hadn’t, he’d still be there. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t need to suppress the incredible desire to reach out and touch Paul, feel his warm skin under his finger tips and feel his lips against his own again, his heartbeat pulsing through them. He longed to do that and to hear Paul speak his name again, voice husky and filled with desire and adoration. He wanted nothing more than to believe in that same old lie again, that Paul felt something. That he was more than just a pretty boy to experiment with. Convenient and willing.

“John, I-” Paul started finally, sounding as if he had been gathering courage to open his mouth ever since they had drove off.  John, however, quickly cut him off.

“Don’t talk to me.” He said firmly, keeping his gaze on the moon.

“John…”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Honestly, I don’t even want to be here right now. You fucking _betrayed_  me. I have nothing to say to you.” John snapped, but Paul didn’t give up that quickly.

“I know,” He said, “I’m sorry.” John scoffed, fighting back the tears that were coming up again, burning like acid. He shook his head. It was cold in the car and John couldn’t help but shiver every so often. This time, Paul seemed to have noticed, for from the corner of his eye, John could see him reaching for something on the back seat as he kept a close eye on the road. Curious, John couldn’t help but look away from the window.

“You’re cold. Take this.” Paul said to him, holding out his scarf for him. Or Paul’s rather. John swallowed thickly, knowing he shouldn’t take it. It would bring back too many memories and he couldn’t deal with that right now. He had to be strong and keep himself together right now if he wanted to get over Paul and stay out of his way as he would marry to woman he loved and whom would give him all he ever wanted in life. He took it anyway.

“Thanks…” He muttered softly, quickly wrapping the scarf around his neck and looking back out of the window. Paul didn’t reply to that and simply looked back at the road. John tried not to think of the fact that this was actually Paul’s scarf as he tried to ignore the other man again, but found he couldn’t. The material still smelled of him and every time he closed his eyes, he was brought back to the moment Paul had given it to him.

“I am sorry, you know. I know I should have told you differently. I just… didn’t know how. I’ve missed you. I was worried about you.” The older man said and John looked away from the window and down to his feet. He wanted so bad to believe it, but he couldn’t. He wanted to believe Paul had missed him and that he loved him the same way as he loved Paul, but he knew now that wasn’t the truth. Paul loved Julia.

“What happened to your eye?"Paul asked and John looked up in surprise, stumbling over his words as their eyes met for a brief moment.

"I-it’s… nothing.” John replied quickly, looking away again as his cheek heated up, “Why do you care, anyway?” This seemed to hit a nerve. Paul’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel in frustration as he gritted his teeth.

“Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because you left without a fucking word and were gone for four days without one single call?! I was worried about you. Your mum was worried about you. So when I see you again and I see you have a blue eye, I care!” Paul snapped at him forcefully, his voice raised. He sounded angry and John couldn’t help but shrink into himself a little, never having heard Paul shout at him like _that_. It was different from their first real fight in the car. John didn’t like to think about why that was.

“You don’t care about me. You betrayed me! I thought-” John started, a lump forming in his throat. He could only just stop himself from running his mouth.

“Thought what?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Let’s just go home. I don’t need to talk to you anymore. Not when you continue to lie to me.”

“Lie about what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Paul. You’re not as good an actor as you think.” John muttered as a reply, turning his body away from Paul to look out of the window again. His leg was twitching nervously and he felt the extreme urge to just jump out of the car. He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t bare the lies. But the truth was worse.

Paul, however, didn’t seem to be done yet. He suddenly turned the wheel, turning the car around and driving away into a different direction. John frowned at that and snapped his head to look at Paul too quickly. His neck grew warm as he hit a nerve in his neck. He groaned and rubbed it, trying to sooth it, but only making it worse in his emotional state.

“What are you doing?” He asked, but Paul wouldn’t answer him. “Paul! Where the fuck are we going?!”

“We,” Paul finally answered, “are going to talk this out and we’re not going home until we have. I don’t know what I did wrong, John, but you’re acting like… like… hell, I don’t even know!”

“ _You’re_  marrying _my_  mum, Paul! Not the other way around. So don’t pretend like you don’t know what is going on.” John shot back, but Paul ignored his comment and simply drove on.

            They were driving out of the city and John didn’t have a clue where they were going. There was hardly anyone around at this time at night and the road was completely dark. They couldn’t see much, but Paul continued driving. He was biting his tongue and gripping the wheel to hard, making the car shake slightly, but John didn’t dare to say anything about it, so he sat there sulking. This was all Cynthia’s fault.

They came to a suddenly halt, a couple of miles out of Liverpool. They had been driving for a while and John only recognised where he was when he looked out of his little window and saw there were some other cars parked here. John couldn’t help but snicker. This was a well-known place where people came to snog their girlfriends in the back seat of their car. Still, that did not explain why the hell Paul had driven them here. The older man turned off the engine and unfastened his seatbelt, but did not get out. John followed his example half-heartedly when Paul continued to stare at him.

“What are we doing here, eh Paul? Hoping you could snog me silly?” John couldn’t help but ask, grinning at his own joke. Paul, however, did not look amused in the slightest. His eyes were wide and seemed to spew fire as he looked John straight in the eye. Even in the dark, John found it difficult to look away. Paul reached behind him and locked the car doors, making it impossible for John to get out. Alarmed, John tried to open his door, but it was in vain.

“What the fuck, Paul!? Let me out!” He cried, pushing hopelessly at the door, but it wouldn’t budge, “Are you fucking crazy?!” Paul grabbed John by his arm and turned him around to face him. John stared back at him with wide eyes, now feeling slightly scared.

“Calm down, John. I just want to talk and we’re going to talk until we’ve figured out what the problem is and then we can go home. So you better start talking if you really want to get home so badly.” Paul told him, tightening his grip as John tried to pull away from him, but not hard enough to hurt the younger man.

“Piss off! You can’t make me.”

“What is your problem with me, John? What did I do?”

“Oh isn’t this great! Like you don’t fucking know…” John hissed back, finally managing to pull his arm free. He sat back in his seat and crossed them stubbornly in front of his chest.

“What is you’re problem?!” Paul asked once more, sounding both frustrated and tired. His voice cracked, as if he was on the verge of tears. John, however, felt no sympathy and something in him snapped as Paul would not admit he had done him wrong.

“You,” John said as he turned back at him, pointing his finger at Paul’s chest, “You fucking betrayed me! You chose my mother over me and fucking put me aside as if I am a mere toy! You made me believe you liked me, that you cared for me, you fucking told me you did, but you fucking lied to me! You betrayed me and lied to me and I don’t mean anything at all to you, do I? You played me for your own fucking benefit and when it wasn’t convenient anymore, you simply pushed me away! You broke my heart!” John screamed at him, breaking down in tears as he finally spilled out what had been weighing down on him for days, the fear that had subconsciously been terrorizing him for weeks. He laid his head in his hands and cried, not caring that Paul was right there, not caring about anything anymore. He just felt broken, tired and alone. So fucking alone.

“John…” Paul voice suddenly came. He had almost forgotten Paul hadn’t spoken at all. He sounded… hurt? Well, fuck him! “John, luv… You… You don’t really believe that, do you?” Paul asked, but John didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Gently, Paul shuffled closer to him and laid a careful hand on John’s shoulder, which John immediately pushed away again.

“Don’t touch me!” He cried, but when Paul did it again, he didn’t pull away, but leaned into the touch instead, his crying reducing to sobs.

“John, I- I know I should have told you differently. I should have told you when we were alone and explained but… I thought you knew. Somehow.” Paul spoke softly, his voice suddenly so gentle and loving so suddenly that John felt his chest ache with pain, knowing it was a lie, “I love you, John. I-I do. I care about you and I love you and I know you love me, too.” John shook his head violently. The words hurt. He wanted to believe him. He wished he could, but instead each word was like a dagger to his heart.

“I saw your drawings of me. The photos under your pillow. The note. I know you wrote that song for me, John, and I know you love me, but I love you too. I know you might not believe me right now, but I do, and I wished I had told you, but I was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t meant to happen this way, John. I didn’t think it was going to be like this, but looking back I know that was stupid. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but I did. When I realised, it was too late and I didn’t know what to do. I love your mum, and I want to marry her. I want to have a family. I want her. But right now I don’t know if I want that if that means I can’t have you.” Paul finished, but John shook his head.

“You’re lying.” He told him, but now Paul shook his head.

“I love you, John.” He repeated, and John looked up at him, their eyes finally meeting and it was as if someone had suddenly pricked him with an electric needle. His crying suddenly stopped and he could only stare into Paul’s eyes, his mind working hard to take it all in. Paul’s eyes looked honest and truthful, gentle and kind, and loving, but also sad and heartbroken, shocked at that John didn’t know how much he meant to him. John felt like crying again, for completely different reasons, this time, but he didn’t.

“I-I… I don’t…” John started, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He looked down at himself again, staring as Paul placed a hand on John’s thigh and squeezed reassuringly. Suddenly, John started to feel dizzy. His mind was fuzzy and his vision started to blur even more than normally. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Come on,” Paul’s voice said to him, “let’s go home. We’re both tired and have had a lot to deal with. Let’s go home and talk about this in the morning. Your mother must be worried.”

“It was a sailor.” John heard himself say, “The black eye. Or I think he was a sailor. I needed money for a place to stay and he offered, but he wouldn’t pay up. He punched me and kicked me in the ribs.” Paul sighed beside him and John could feel the engine come back to life. He blindly reached for his seatbelt and fastened it. Paul didn’t say anything about it. He simply squeezed his thigh one last time and told him to sleep if he could, before driving off again.

            The drive home seemed to be over far sooner than John had expected it to be. He opened his eyes as the car pulled to a halt, expecting that Paul had to stop at a traffic light or something, but found that they were already parked before their house. He looked at Paul in surprise, who smiled at him, before opening the car door to get out. Weakly, John freed himself from his seatbelt and was just about to open the door when Paul did it for him. He offered him his hand and John took it without question, still not feeling well. Paul hauled him out of the car and let John lean on him as he locked the car and wrapped an arm around John’s waist. Gently, he led him to the house.

They had not even reached the garden gate or the front door swung open and Julia emerged from the house in her sleeping dress. She looked pale, but relieved and gasped when she saw John. She hurried over to them on her bare feet and quickly took John from Paul.

“What happened? Oh, John, what did you do now?” She muttered, wrapping her arms around her son. She looked questioningly at Paul, who nodded at her reassuringly.

“He’s fine. Just has had a lot to cope with. He’ll be alright.” He told her, but as soon as Julia saw John’s black eye, she seemed to have forgotten it again.

“What happened to his eye?” She asked, shocked, as they moved towards the house.

“He got hit by some guy. It’s nothing serious. You know how drunken people are.” Paul said, obviously not wanting to tell his fiancée the truth and John couldn’t be happier with that.

“It’s nothing, mum.” He croaked out, but was shushed quickly. He was led inside without another word and was sat down in the kitchen for a cup of tea with extra sugar, since he was feeling so weak. John drank it eagerly, suddenly thirsty, but kept his head lowered, not meeting Paul’s eyes as he stood by the door, watching in silence as Julia took care of her son.

Had Paul meant it? Did he really love him? Had he really been that stupid? John didn’t feel much better, trying to figure out the answers in his head at this stage, so he tried to push them away, but his heart fluttered with hope. He shyly looked up at Paul and swallowed thickly at the worried expression on his face.

He finished his tea and handed his mug back to his mother, who quickly put it aside and suddenly wrapped herself around him, hugging him to tight that John had trouble breathing.

“Oh, darling. I was so worried about you. Don’t do that again, please. And you made Jules worry. And Paul. He wanted to go look for you, the silly man. Oh, John. I’ve missed you so much.” His mother whispered into his ear and John felt another lump in his throat and more tears in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this. Did his mother really love him so much. And Jules. Had Paul really wanted to go look for him? He swallowed thickly, but it didn’t help. These last four days must have been tough on them, and he hadn’t even thought about that! Did he really mean this much to them?

            As soon as John finished another glass of cold water on his mother’s request, it was time to go to sleep. He was glad he finally could, feeling utterly drained and having missed his own bed. Julia helped him up, but to his surprise it was Paul who took him by the arm and led him carefully upstairs. His heart was thumping in his chest at the feeling of Paul’s touch on his body again. He had missed touching him to much, feeling his body warmth on his own skin through his clothes. God, he has missed him.

“Careful, John. Last step.” Paul warned John and the younger lad nodded as he climbed the finally step. Paul pulled him against his side as they moved to John’s bedroom. It was just as John had left it, but he could see someone had been going through his stuff. He remembered how Paul had told him he had found the photos, his sketches and the note. He didn’t say anything and simply let himself be sat down as Paul got him something to wear. He undressed in silence and quickly pulled on his clothes as Paul turned away from him to give him some privacy. Not that John would have minded if he had looked.

He climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up over himself, humming contently as he was engulfed in that wonderful warmth in the safety of his own bed. Paul took a seat at his side and helped him a little, noticing John was still weak, but he didn’t meet his eye anymore. Slightly disappointed, John curled up in bed and got comfortable as Paul got up again to leave him.

“Goodnight, John.” He said, his voice dull and painful. John felt his chest tighten and sat up again, ignoring how the room moved lightly around him.

“Paul!” He called back, taking a deep breath as Paul turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. “I love you, too. And… I’m sorry.” He continued softly and the older man smiled at that, but he still he simply turned around and walked out of the room.

“Go to sleep, John.” He whispered back, before closing the door and leaving John confused behind.


	19. Chapter 19

He closed the door softly behind himself, keeping his head lowered to hide the grin that was still on his lips. His heart had fluttered at John’s words and there was a strange feeling pooling low in his belly, making him want to jump up and down while shrieking, but also throw up. If it weren’t for the fact that Julia was standing right there, halfway up the stairs, looking at him expectantly, he would have reacted that way and probably kissed John before he had the chance to take it back. The mere thought nearly made him giggle.

“How is he?” Julia whispered from the stairs, now slowly coming up as well. Paul forced the smile off his face and turned to her, nodding.

“He’s fine. Some sleep will do him good, I think. His eye still looks pretty ugly, though.” He said, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his excitement. Julia nodded and let out a soft sigh as he wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him against her and resting her head against his chest. Paul let a smile shine through at that and kissed the top of her head sweetly.

“I’m so happy he’s home again. I was so worried.”

“I know you were, darling.” Paul whispered back to her, swaying her slightly in his arms. Julia hummed and nodded.

“And you? He wasn’t being too mean to you, was he?”

“He was angry, but I think that had more to do with the fact that he was being dragged home like an petulant child. We’ll-  He’ll get over it, I think.”  

“That’s good. I hope so.”

“We should get to bed too, you know. It’s almost morning after all.” Paul offered and Julia looked up at him, smiling weakly as she tightened her hold on him.

“I love you.” She muttered and Paul smiled in turn and swallowed thickly before pulling her against him again and kissing his hair once more.

            The next morning, John woke up still feeling exhausted. His body was aching and he could hardly bring it to move. His eyelids continued to fall close and his mind kept drifting off into a dreamlike state, which almost seemed like reality, making the distinction between awake and asleep a fuzzy one. At first, he wasn’t even sure what was going on. He could feel he was laying in an actual bed, rather than Stuart’s crappy old mattress, and there was a wall next, keeping him from falling off the bed, which meant he was probably at home. Yet, he couldn’t see anything at all. He tried to get his eyes to focus long enough to see something, but still everything remained dark. Finally, as he tried to sit up to keep himself awake, he realised his covers were covering his head completely, blocking his sight completely. He groaned as he strained to pull them off himself, allowing some light to finally hit his face.

Like he had thought, he was in his own room again, though he was sitting on the wrong side of his bed, and his pillow had fallen off the ground, probably having been kicked off. He let himself fall down again, sleep still trying to get through to him. He let out a deep sigh and stared up at the ceiling, trying to stay awake despite feeling that sleep wouldn’t be the worst thing for him right now. He was glad to be home again, unlike he had thought he would be. He had felt angry when he had seen Paul walking through the door at Cynthia’s. Betrayed even by his friends. But looking back at it now, he was glad she had called him and Paul had dragged him home. Else, they wouldn’t have been able to talk. Else, he wouldn’t have known Paul actually loved him. He cared for him. It was weird to have someone think about him like that. He wasn’t used to it and the idea scared him ever so slightly, but he also felt… happy. However strange that was.

The real trouble with that, however, was that like so many people in his life, Paul would have to leave him. He could not offer Paul what he wanted, and no matter how much Paul said he wished they could stay together, he knew they couldn’t and he’d never take the idea of a family away from Paul. They would have to face the facts and- John stopped himself from thinking any further than that. Paul had said they had to talk about this and work it out together, and perhaps that was for the best, even if John already knew what the answer would be. They were both adults and they could work this out together and not try to make decisions for the other person. It would only make things more difficult. No, it was for the best if they talked and came to the same conclusion, so they both knew it was for the best. However difficult that was going to be once they were finally alone again. Even last night he had difficulty keeping his hands off Paul and not kissing him right away after Paul said he loved him and meant it.

Besides, maybe Paul knew the answer as well. He had acted rather odd when he had told him he loved him too. John giggled despite himself, rolling over into his bed onto his belly like a lovestruck teenager. He forced himself to stop as soon as he realised what he was doing.

            Deciding it was best to get their talk over with as soon as possible (this decision had nothing to do with him being eager to see Paul, of course), John got up, stretched out his body and went into the bathroom to splash some water into his face to wake himself up before getting ready. He took a quick shower and spend three minutes staring at his eye in the bathroom mirror before brushing his teeth. He threw on some clothes and hurried down stairs to look for Paul.

To his surprise, he found a note written by his mother, telling him Julia and she had gone out to do some shopping and that Paul is somewhere at home to keep an eye on him and make sure he wouldn’t run away. John chuckled at that, realising his mother knew him less well than he had thought she did. Then again, she didn’t know he really wanted to talk to Paul, so she couldn’t really have known.

He quickly made himself a sandwich before walking around the house in search for Paul, feeling his heart accelerate with every step he took. His fingers were twitching and it only got worse and worse as he went through the house room by room and found all of them empty. Eventually, he found him in the hallway as he came down the stairs from searching the bedrooms. The front door opened and Paul walked in, wrapped up tight in a thick coat and a large scarf. His hands must be freezing though, as he wasn’t wearing any gloves. They were dirty too, making John wonder what Paul had been doing.

“John! You’re up! How are you?” Paul asked as he noticed John on the stairs. He pulled off his scarf and smiled carefully at the younger man standing on the stairs. He took off his shoes and coat as well as John descended the stairs. He wiped his hands off on his jeans.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He replied, eyeing Paul curiously, “What were you doing?”

“Oh, nothing. Trying to fix the car.” The older man said, holding up his hands as prove. John couldn’t help but chuckle at that, finding it difficult to see Paul doing that. Especially in this wintery weather.

“And you’re any good at that?” He asked, still laughing. Paul gave him a look, but finally gave in and chuckled as well as he shook his head.

“Not at all. Still, there’s no harm in trying. It’s only a dent, anyway. Not much I can fuck up there, is there?”

“I suppose not.” John answered with a shrug, looking up at Paul’s face and capturing his eye. Neither said anything for a moment as they simply looked at each other, both smiling every so slightly, as if communicating through their gazes.

“Your eye still looks pretty bad, though.” Paul brought in finally, his voice breaking slightly at the beginning. John shrugged again.

“I’ll get over it. I’ve had worse after all. I just… shouldn’t touch it too much.” He spoke, not knowing what else to say. Luckily, Paul seemed to know.

“We should probably talk, right?” He asked and John nodded, “Let’s go into the kitchen, so I can clean my hands as well.”

            Neither spoke much though as they went into the kitchen. John hopped onto a counter by the sink and watched in silence as Paul tried to wash the oil and dirt of his hands with too much soap and warm water. He had rolled up his sleeves, exposing his hairy forearms that seemed strangely muscled. John supposed it was all the guitar and piano playing. They looked really good though, however odd that may be. He wasn’t sure if it was because they had been apart for a while, or that he simply hadn’t noticed it as much before, but Paul looked really good and all John wanted to do is run his hands through his hair, caress his arms and kiss him. He knew he shouldn’t, so he didn’t, although he found it hard to reason why.

Paul was just as silent, keeping his gaze on his hands as he rubbed away the filth. Yet, the silence wasn’t particularly awkward. Finally, it was John who spoke his mind.

“Did you mean it? What you said last night? About me and you? About you… loving me?” John asked, praying to himself that Paul would say “yes”, while he knew that if he said “no”, doing the right thing would be so much easier. He found it difficult to care with Paul so close to him. Close enough to touch. If only he dared to.

Paul looked up at him in surprise, his hands stilling under the stream of hot water. For a split second John feared the worse, his hands gripping the counter tightly as he held his breath. He felt his body instantly relax, however, when Paul nodded.

“Yes. Of course, I did. Did… did you?” He asked and John smiled broadly before nodding as well. He slowly reached out and laid his hand gently on top of Paul’s arm, needing to finally touch the other man after not having been able to for so long. Immediately, his heart slowed down to a more normal pace. Paul, however, tensed up under his touch and quickly pulled his arm away, shaking his head.

“John…” He said with a sad sigh, closing his eyes briefly, as if thinking of what to say. The younger man, however, was quick to interrupt him.

“I’ve missed you, Paul.” He said and Paul nodded.

“I know, John. But we can’t just continue this from where we’ve left off. We’ve got to work this out. To make this work between us.”

“How then? Because, honestly, I don’t see any other fucking options here, Paul. Unless you want to quit, that is-”

“No! That’s not…” Paul took a deep breath, and started cleaning his hands again as he glanced up at John, frowning slightly as he chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t know what I want anymore, John. I don’t.” John watched him attentively, and as he saw him, looking almost hopeless, he didn’t want to lose him. He was the only one who ever cared for him. Loved him. He doesn’t want to loose that last person. Not again.

“You know what, Paul? Fuck it. Fuck everything. We’ve gotten this far without getting caught, haven’t we? And what does a little silver ring matter, anyway!”

“Everything, John! We’ll be- If I marry your mum, I’ll officially be your step-dad. We’ll be family, which makes this whole thing eve more wrong than it already is! And you’re an adult, John. You’ll be punished for this as much I am! I can’t do that to you, or your mum. It’s not right.”

“I doesn’t feel wrong to me…” John said, feeling his heart fall down into his stomach, “It even feel… sort of…”

“Right?”

“Yeah…”

Paul sighed at that and washed the soap of his hands, before reaching for a towel. John watched him as he moved around the kitchen. He had known this would be their only choice, to break up and end it here before it went to far, but it still hurt. He had still hoped there would be a chance.

“I wish we could just run away. Start over.” He confessed, not even remembering how many times he had imagined that possibility. Paul gave a rather cruel laugh, however.

“And how do you think that will go. People catch on right away. A 42-year-old with a barely legal boy travelling through England, not even being related. Imagine how that will look.”

“I know that! I said I wished! I just don’t want you to marry my mother!” _I want you to marry me_. John swallowed those last words, knowing how stupid that would sound. Thankfully, Paul started to talk almost right after his last word has left his mouth.

“Honestly, I don’t know what possessed me when I proposed to your mother. I love her, you know I do, but I love you too and I knew marrying your mum would end us, but I still did it. I’m a family man, John. I’ve always wanted stability in my life. I always wanted to get married, life in a large home in the country somewhere, have a dog and lovely wife and a couple of kids running around. As many as possible. I wanted to see them grow and develop into actual people themselves and get their own lives of which I can be part of. I’ve always wanted that life, John. I still do.”

“I can’t give you that.”

“No… no, you can’t. I- I didn’t want this, John. I mean, I wanted you for sure, but I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Even when we started this damn thing I didn’t think I’d actually fall in love. I thought we’d just end if when I got engaged or when you’d find a nice boy for yourself, only… now that time is finally here, it turns out it’s not that simple and I have fallen in love.” Paul finished with a deep sigh, throwing the towel aside. John bit his lip.

“You really love me?” He asked, not liking how hopeful he sounded. Paul’s expression softened almost immediately though, and he looked straight into John’s eyes as he smiled with a slight nod. Just that was enough to make John grin like a fool.

“I do. Yes. I wished things had been different. That I’d been younger and we’d been friends. Perhaps grow up and learn the guitar together. Get into a band and take over the world.”

“I’m sorry for running away. I just… I’m not used to being loved. Or wanted. I always keep people at a distance. But not you. Only, I thought you didn’t see me like that and would simply leave me. Everyone leaves me. My dad, my uncle, Stu’s going to Germany and Cynthia is busy with her own life. I thought you’d leave, so I ran away. I-I couldn’t deal with that and I knew I had to get over you somehow. I never thought you’d actual feel this way about me. I mean, why would you? No one else ever did.” John said, finishing with a sad little snicker, looking down at the floor in order not to meet Paul’s eye. He wasn’t even sure why he had admitted this all. He hadn’t planned to at all.

Suddenly, there was a familiar touch on his shoulder, making him look up and meet Paul’s eyes anyway. He swallowed thickly as he saw only pity and love in the other man’s eyes.

“Your mum loves you. They all love you.” He told him in a gentle voice, and John couldn’t stop himself from smiling at that, but still he shook his head.

“That doesn’t count, though, does it? It’s not the same. Not really. No one ever actually wanted to keep me. Would you? Keep me, that is?” He asked carefully and Paul smiled at him, his hands coming up to hold him, pulling him closer and gently rubbing his one arm as the other caressed his cheek as he held his gaze. John almost started to tremble under the attention, not being used to that anymore and almost melted into Paul’s hands.

“Yes. I would keep you. If that’s what you want to call it.” Paul said and there was something in his eyes that made John believe him right away, “John, I’d run away with you right now if I could, but we have to be realistic.”

“But I don’t want to lose you. I feel awful for saying that because Mum really loves you and she deserves a great guy who makes her happy, but I so wish it didn’t have to be you!” John said and both smiled at that, half out of amusement, half out of sadness, until John decided he had enough and fuck it all. He grabbed Paul by the shoulder and pulled him closer to him as he stood up on the toes and forcefully pushed his lips against Paul’s for a desperate kiss.

Paul lips remained unresponsive at first, probably being surprised by what was happening, but soon he started to move with him and John felt like he could cry. Paul’s warm skin was burning into his own and his head was swimming as their lips seemed to melt together. It felt so good to have him again, to feel him again and kiss him again after so long. To feel his heard pulse as he moved his hand up to stroke Paul’s neck, feeling his pulse point under his thumb.

“I’ve missed you so much. I- I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered huskily against Paul’s lips as he pulled away slightly for some air, before kissing the older man again, his fingers grasping Paul’s shirt tightly and pulled him in even more until their bodies were aligned and Paul was secularly between his spread legs. “I love you.”  

Paul groaned against his lips, his fingers tightening around John’s biceps, his nails almost breaking the skin, making it just that little bit more real. God, he had missed this. Needed this. He clawed at Paul’s shirt, wanting more. Needing more and feeling almost addicted now he had him again, feeling relieved to feel Paul being responsive and almost just as needy as himself. Even his cock started to react, growing and twitching eagerly in his jeans, obviously having missed this just as much as John’s himself. He moaned when Paul pressed even closer to him and he could feel his erection press against the inside of his thigh. Yet, both of them ignored them and continued to simply kiss, having missed this too much to stop for even a second.

Finally, Paul pulled away to breathe, and John stared at the older man, taking in that familiar sight of his flushed cheeks and dilated eyes.

“Fuck…” Paul breathed as he cupped John’s head in his hands and caressed his cheeks tenderly, while staring at him, taking in every detail, as if he wasn’t quite believing he was real. John smiled at the thought.

“I- I want to work this out.” John said softly, blushing slightly as he heard how husky and wrecked his voice sounded. Paul, however, didn’t seem to mind at all and simply smiles as he nodded.

“Then we will. Somehow.” And with that last, he leaned in to kiss him again, sighing into John’s mouth as it opened up for him and John let out a needy little moan as Paul’s tongue curled around his own.  

            Paul whistled a happy tune as he watched John and Jules play in the backyard. Jules seemed glad to have her big brother back, and was happily showing him her snowman creations. John humoured her by making stupid jokes and making up stories about that. Occasionally, John would look up at him and their eye’s would meet, making it difficult for Paul to breath properly. Yet, he felt strangely at peace. He and John were still together, which was good and they would work it out. And even though he still didn’t have a clue how that was going to work, he illogically felt like they might have the slightest chance of making it.

Perhaps it was stupid to think that, but at the moment it was what Paul clung to. He really loved the younger boy, and he didn’t care how creepy that made him sound or how fucked up that was. He loved him and John loved him and that was all that mattered.

“What got you so happy?” Julia suddenly asked as she brushed with his shoulder against his, giving him a little bump. Paul turned to her and smiled.

“I fixed the car.” He said and she laughed at that before kissing his cheek affectionately.

“I’m proud of you, dear.”

* * *

 

School had never been great for John. It was dull, the teachers were boring and he would much rather stay at home, write songs and play guitar until his fingers bled. Normally, Stuart could make school days a little more bearable, but seeing as they still hadn’t spoken a word to each other since John had stupidly run out of his apartment after he had kissed him, he couldn’t cheer him up, either. In fact, he was doing almost the exact opposite. He was sitting right behind him, and John could feel his eyes digging into the back of his neck. It was unnerving. John knew they needed to talk. He should apologize, but John didn’t want to apologize. John Lennon did not apologize, after all. It didn’t matter he had apologized to Paul. That was different. Everything with different with Paul.

He sighed and stared down into his notebook. There were a few scribbles in them, little drawing of nothing in particular. Just scribbles. He mindlessly added a few, letting his head rest in his hand as he tried to force his eyes to remain open. He was seriously considering skipping the next couple of classes and go home. No one would be home yet, so it’s not like his mother would find out he skipped.

John nearly jumped in his seat as he suddenly felt someone tapping his shoulder. With slightly annoyance, he glanced around, to see Stuart holding out a note for him. Frowning, he took it and quickly turned back around so the teacher wouldn’t notice. He carefully folded open the note and read it, glancing every so often at the teacher to make sure he wouldn’t get caught.

_I’m not mad at you or anything. Please talk to me. I hope we’re alright._

The words made him smile. He quickly placed the note on his notebook and scribbled back a reply.

_I shouldn’t have done that. I was confused. Of course we’re alright. Meet after class?_

His fingers were shaking slightly as he folded up the note. He glanced at the teacher and waited till he turned back to the board, before handing it back to Stuart, who swiftly took it. He had only just taken his hand back or the teacher turned back around, his eyes landing right onto John, who grinned at him and fluttered his eyelashes in fake innocence.

“Anything you’d like to share, Lennon?” the teacher called out, but John merely sat back in his chair and pretended to think before shaking his head.

“No, thanks. I’m quite happy keeping secrets actually.” He replied with another smirk. Some people around him giggled, but the teacher didn’t seem at all pleased. His face twitched unpleasantly and John could see how his fingers tightened around the piece of chalk in his hand.

“I’m warning you, Lennon.” He said, wagging the said piece of chalk at him.

“But I didn’t even do anything!”

“I seriously doubt that. Now, no more nonsense or I’ll send you to the head master. If I’m not mistaken he is quite eager to find an excuse to keep you out of this school after what happened last time. Am I clear!”

“So clear you’re almost invisible.” John retorted and for a second he thought his teacher would actually throw the chalk at his head, but he seemed to change his mind at the last minute. He curtly nodded and turned back to the board, muttering something under his breath that no one could hear. John didn’t need much imagination to know what the gist of it was, though. He felt Stuart tap his shoulder again, before leaning in, his mouth right besides John’s ear.

“If you want to get lunch together, you might want to keep quiet for the rest of the hour.” He whispered into his ear, but John could hear he was amused. He shrugged, but kept quiet until the bell finally rang, signalling his freedom.

            Neither man said much as they walked through the halls together, both feeling slightly uncomfortable in each other’s presence after what had happened between them. Stuart had his hands in his pockets and his head down, staring at his feet as he walked. John kept glancing at Stuart, thinking of anything to say to the other man to make the situation a little less tense and more comfortable. Yet, he couldn’t think of a single thing, so he just kept awkwardly looking away when Stuart felt his gaze and turned his head to look at him. Thankfully, they soon get to Cynthia’s classroom, where she was patiently waiting for them as she spoke to another girl. She was holding her books tightly to her chest and had a faint blush on her cheeks as she giggled at something the other girl said. As soon as she noticed John and Stuart coming her way, however, she hugged the girl and said goodbye. The girl had just left by the time John and Stuart had arrived. Before John had the chance to make a comment, however, Cynthia was already speaking.

“I see you boys made up!” She greeted them cheerfully and he was glad to see Stuart smile at that in the corner of his eye. He moved to stand next to Cynthia and offered her a cigarette. She laughed at the sight of it.

“You’re joking, right? You know we’re not allowed to smoke in school.” She said, but John merely shrugged and took one anything, placing it between his lips.

“Oh right, I plainly forgot.” He replied with a cheeky wink before lighting it and taking a drag. The smile disappeared from her face, however. Especially when Stuart took one as well.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Lennon. Do as you like, but I tried to stop you, okay?”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” John muttered as he took a drag. His and Stuart’s eyes met and they chuckled. Right away some of the tension between them fell away, making it easier for John to breathe again.

“Did you guys get your grades yet?” Cynthia asked.

“Yes.They gave them to us at the end of class. They were fine. If I can keep this up I’ll get to go to Germany for sure!” Stuart replied, smiling broadly at the idea of moving to Germany for a few years to continue his art there. John felt happy for him, of course, as a good friend was supposed to be, but there was something nagging at him about it too. Stuart was his best friend and he didn’t want to lose him. Of course, he’d visit and Stuart would still come to England as well, but it wasn’t the same. He was going to miss the lad and had secretly been hoping his grades would drop. He knew that made him a bad person, but he can’t help what he feels, can he? Besides, he would not only lose his friend, but his bass player as well. The lad might not be the best person to have picked up a guitar, but he still needed him.

“How about you, John?” Cynthia asked, dragging him away from his thoughts. John stared at her for a few seconds, trying to figure out what she was asking exactly. Stuart answered for him.

“He didn’t look yet.”

“What? Why not! Come on, I’m curious.”

“Just leave it, Cyn. I already know they’re crap. I’ll look at home, alright.” John told her with a sigh and Cynthia nodded, but John could see she was eager to find out how he did. The thought made him smile, but still he didn’t want to look just yet, knowing all his grades would be in red.

“How is home, anyway, John? You seem like yourself again.” Cynthia continued instead, most likely prying for some kind of praise and to find something to talk about to distract her from the list of unknown grades in John’s bag.

“It’s alright. I er… I’m glad you called him, by the way. I don’t think I would have gone back myself.” He admitted and Cynthia smiled broadly at that, obviously feeling a little proud of herself. He took another drag and didn’t say anything more as let the nicotine calm his nerves. He’d rather not talk too much about it, doubting they would take the news that he and Paul made up well. Pitifully, Stuart asked further.

“So how are things going between you and Paul, then? Still not talking?” He asked and John shook his head.

“Stuart told me, you know. About what happened between you and Paul, so you can be honest with us.” Cynthia told him and John looked up in shock, looking Stuart dead in the eye. The older man held up his hands defensively and took a step back, his ciggy hanging between his lips.

“She pressed on and on about it, I swear. Besides, what else was I supposed to tell her?” He asked, mumbling slightly due to the ciggy. John sighed, deciding that Stuart was probably right. Besides, he might as well be honest now, and he actually liked the idea of talking to someone about it.

“We’re… We spoke and- Listen, promise you won’t get all judgemental and mad at me? I’m only human, even if it may not seem to most of the time.” He asked.

“Sure, John. Now, what’s going on between you too?” Stuart agreed and John waited for Cynthia to nod as well before continuing what he was going to say.

“We talked and he explained what happened and we er… we came to the conclusion we kind of… liked each other-”

“Love is the word you’re looking for, John.” Cynthia interrupted him and John glared at her in response. Yet, he didn’t correct her. She was right, after all.

“-and we sort of made up.”

“Made up?!” Both gasped at the same time, making John chuckle, before nodding.

“We don’t really want to quit what we have. I mean, we know that we’re probably going to have to stop eventually, but… We just want to see if there’s any other way. ” John said, smiling awkwardly as the other two simply stared at him in disbelieve. He hadn’t expected any other reaction from them, but a little more support would have been nice. He told them.

“John, I’m sorry, but you’re joking right?” Cynthia asked, sounding completely serious. John didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“You can’t do that, John!” Stuart brought in as well, “It’s just putting off the inevitable. Surely you can see that!”

“I know, Stu. I- It’s not that simple, okay? We’ll stop if we can’t work anything out, of course, but… we want to try. Just in case.” John said, sighed and rubbing the back of his neck. Cynthia laid a gently hand on his shoulder, making him look her into the eye.

“John, luv, you know I care about you and I’ll support you, but are you sure this is a good idea? You’ll only end up hurt! You’ve seen what happened when you heard they got engaged! How will you deal with actually breaking up after that!”

“I need to try, Cyn. I know it’s stupid, but I have to.”

“If you’re certain…”

“I am.” John said.

            John kept his head lowered as he walked back home, his back thrown over his shoulder. It was snowing lightly and there was quite a rough wind rushing past his head, making his cheeks feel frozen. Still, he was glad to be walking outside rather than to sit in class for another three hours. He had decided to go home after lunch, not feeling like school anymore. He just wanted to be at home so he could relax and play some guitar again. He had missed doing that when he had ran away, and he hadn’t been able to stop playing all weekend. He missed the feeling of the rough strings digging into his fingers, the sound of it caressing his ears… He couldn’t wait to be home.

He had glanced at his grades before he had left the school and it hadn’t been as bad as he had initially thought, though most of his grades were still red. He felt awful because of it, seeing as how much time he put into the whole thing. He wished he had at least been able to see some results from that. The worst thing was going to be having to show it to his mother. He didn’t want to disappoint here, but yet, here he was again with bad grades, on the verge of being thrown out of school. And Paul… he had been really supportive and would probably have loved John to get some good grades. But good grades just didn’t seem like things he could have. Perhaps he should just quit and give up.

Sooner than he had thought, John opened the front door, which was curiously unlocked, which was odd, seeing as Jules still had school and Julia and Paul would still be at work. He took off his coat and shoes and tried to fix his hair, styling it back in that Elvis hairdo. It was a little too wet to sit perfectly, but he managed. Finally, he dropped his bag near the stairs so he wouldn’t forget it and went into the living room, knowing he left his guitar there from previous evening. He nearly screamed when he saw someone sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“Oh, John! You’re home.” Paul greeted him cheerily, as John rubbed his chest to calm down his heart and caught his breath. No, he hadn’t shrieked. That had probably been someone outside.

“What are you doing at home, anyway? I thought you had class?” Paul continued as he put his book aside on the coffee table, looking John up and down in a calculative manner.

“Yeah… well…” John replied with a shrug. He didn’t have to say anything more for Paul to understand what was going on.

“Why aren’t you at school?” He asked calmly, yet forcefully, making lying seem like a particularly bad idea. John sighed and turned around to get his test results from his bag. Paul waited patiently and didn’t even frown when John came back and offered him the piece of paper. The older man simply took it, patted the space next to him and unfolded the piece of paper to read. John sat down at his assignment spot and watched Paul’s face closely, trying to ignore the urge to run away and lock himself in his room. By the time Paul had reached the end of the list, he looked disappointed.

“I really tried this time…” John muttered softly, looking away from Paul’s face and down at his hands, fumbling with his fingers. He could feel the couch move slightly as Paul moved, yet he didn’t look to see what he was doing.

“John…” Paul’s voice came suddenly, making John jump in his seat, “If you want better grades, you shouldn’t be skipping school, you know.”

“It’s not like it matters. It didn’t matter with these tests, why should it with the next?” John asked with a sigh, letting himself fall back into the couch in defeat.

“I can help you if you want. Most of the time it’s just knowing how to answer the questions to get better grades.”

“I don’t know…”

“You’re not stupid, John. I know you’re not.” Paul told him and John smiled at that, yet he could not believe Paul could actually be of any help to him. Cynthia couldn’t even help him!

“Why couldn’t God make me Elvis?” John asked with a deep sigh, letting his head roll to the side so he was looking at Paul. The older man laughed at that and reached out for him, gently grabbing his hand and pulling him to him, so John was lying down next to him, his head on Paul’s chest. He gave into Paul, letting his body melt against his with a happy hum and wrapping his arms around him. Paul gently raked his fingers through John’s damp hair.

“Because he saved you for John Lennon.” He replied, making John laugh. He looked up at Paul and in that moment he wanted to believe it, that he could be someone and not just a loser  who’d eventually die in the gutter. He leaned up on his hand and moved up Paul’s body, covering his with his own and placing his legs on either side of his body so they were touching from chest to hip. Paul was watching him with a smile on his lips and John leaned in to kiss it away. He failed though, and Paul only smiled broader. Not that John really minded.

“I’ve missed you.” He muttered as he opened his mouth to suck Paul’s bottom lip in his mouth, moaning as he felt Paul’s arms coming up and wrapping around him, pulling him close.  Paul chuckled.

“You were gone for only four hours!” He told him, still giggling and John pulled away to roll his eyes.

“Last week, you idiot.” He replied and Paul went along in his game, pretending to finally have understood what John had meant. The younger man kissed him again, having missed those lips and not being able to get enough of them now he had them again. He could get drunk on those lips.

“I’ve missed you too, John.” Paul muttered hotly onto John’s lip, a hand coming up to tangle itself into John’s hair and pull lightly as Paul parted his lips and snaked his tongue over John’s. Hungry for me, John opened his mouth for Paul with an eager moan, allowing John entrance, as he rolled his hips down against Paul’s, shuddering at the friction. Paul moaned at the feeling and involuntary buckled up into the touch as his tongue curled around John’s, pulling it into his mouth to suckle on. John’s head felt woozy as he let Paul, enjoying their lazy yet passionate kiss and the feeling of his body against his again. It seemed so long ago that they had done this and every touch seemed to linger on his skin, even though his clothes. He had missed this. Missed feeling Paul against him, feeling his tongue wrap around his own and feeling how their bodies grew hotter and hotter with every touch, every lick and every kiss.

Wanting more, he moved his hand down over Paul’s chest, fingering the buttons of Paul’s shirt, but not undoing them, just teasing Paul with the idea, until he reached the men’s belt. He raised up his hips to make a bit more room before sliding his hand further down, finally reaching his goal.

“Fuck!” Paul breathed out, breaking the kiss as he thrusted up in John’s hand. John smirked at his reaction and leaned down to bury his face in Paul’s neck, kissing him there, careful not to leave a mark. He continued to move his hand, rubbing up and down and feeling how Paul quickly grew under his palm.

“John… shit, stop.” Paul spoke, reaching down to pull John’s hand away. The younger man looked up in confusement, not having expected that. He had seemed so into it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, trying not to smirk at the glassy look in Paul’s eye and the light flush on his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t we… wait? You know, until we’ve figured this out? I mean, I want to, John, but might it not be a better idea if we figured this out and kept emotions at bay for a second? Keep our heads straight?” Paul asked, moving his hands to John’s shoulder to keep him away from him. John couldn’t help but laugh at that, however, before trying to kiss him again. Paul, however, still refuses. With a deep sigh, John sat back on his knees, letting his bum rest on top of Paul’s thighs.

“Paul, I get what you mean, but the way I see it is that either we figure out that there’s no way to make this work and that we have to stop what we’re doing-”

“Don’t talk like that.” Paul interrupted, looking physically pained.

“-meaning this is all we’re going to get, or we find a solution and we won’t be wasting time trying to keep our thoughts rational.” John continued to explain, moving his hands to caress Paul’s chest as he spoke, feeling the rhythm of his heart under his palm. He looked down into Paul’s eye, holding his gaze as he watched the man think it over. When the older man sighed and nodded, John couldn’t help but smirk.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’m really fucking horny right now.” Paul laughed at that last, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he did. John smiled back at him, his fingers moving up to unbutton Paul’s shirt. This time, Paul made no effort to try and stop him. Instead, he reached up for John and pulled him in for another kiss, licking into his mouth right away and swallowing John’s moan of surprise.

“You’re too easy to persuade.” John chuckled as they pulled away to breath and Paul smiled at that.

“Well, maybe because you’re very persuasive.” He replied and moved his hand down of John’s shoulder to his thigh, caressing him there and roughly pulling him closer, making John moan again, before sitting up and placing his own hand on top of John’s crotch, squeezing him. John gasped at the feeling, his eyes fluttering close. Paul chuckled again and leaned in to kiss John’s ear, teasing licking into it and enjoying the way John trembled in his lap.

“Not here, though. I want to do it properly.” Paul whispered hotly into John’s ear, before pulling away to see John’s reaction. The younger boy opened his eyes and pretended to be annoyed by rolling his eyes. Yet, the little wanton thrust from the boy’s hips into his hand told a different story. Paul grinned at him and grabbed him tightly by his bum as he sat up and moved to stand, holding John up and close to him. John shrieked as Paul got up from the couch in one swift movement, lifting him up in the ear and leaving him to wrap his legs around Paul’s middle and simply hold on as Paul carried him to the stairs and up to John’s bedroom, panting in his ear at the strength it took.

Still, to both their surprised he managed and John giggled like a girl as Paul struggled up the stairs. He buried his face back in the familiar spot in the crook of Paul’s neck, near his ear. John hummed contently as he kissed him there and rubbed his face against the scruffy skin of Paul’s chin, where a beard was coming through. He didn’t mind though, enjoying the roughness of it.

“You’re scratchy.” He muttered at Paul as they reached the top floor. Paul huffed and raised John up a bit more, making John giggle again, before moving further.

“Sorry,” he apologized, already sounding out of breath, “I didn’t have time to shave this morning.”

“No. I like it.” John mumbled, kissing his chin and moving his hands into Paul’s hair to caress him. Paul smiled at that and nodded.

“I’ll remember that.” He said and John nodded before wrapping his lips around Paul’s earlobe, suckling sweetly.

“You should,” He whispered and Paul swallowed thickly at that. His pace sped up slightly and before John knew it, he was dropped onto the bed. He shrieked, before bursting out in a fit of giggled. Paul stood panting above him, looking down at him with a lustful admiration in his eyes and John reached out for him. Paul complied and got into bed with him, straddling John and leaning down for another kiss, this one more passionate and dirty, with biting teeth and hungry growls of want and need.

Their fingers caressed every inch of each other that they could find and soon Paul had John’s shirt off and his hand down the trousers of his school uniform.

“Shit…” John moaned, cocking his head back and breaking the kiss as Paul’s fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking him off with slow strokes. Paul moved his kisses lower instead, finding the boy’s collarbone and sucking a light red mark there, knowing John would be able to hide it. The younger man didn’t complain and merely moaned and thrusted up with his hips, begging for more. Paul was more than happy to give it to him and moved his kisses even loser, licking over John’s erect nipples and into his belly button, pulling such pretty noises from the boy’s throat, before reaching the boy’s trousers. He pulled out his hand and hastily pulled off John’s trousers and underwear in one go, leaving John naked on the bed. His cock lay heavy and hard against his belly, twitching as it lay waiting. Paul looked up at John, his breath stocking as he noticed John watching him, his wet lips parted as he panted his name. He winked at him, before leaning down and taking the head on John’s cock in his mouth, smirking around it at John’s howl.

“Oh! Fuck, Macca… oh please.” John moaned prettily and Paul kept his eyes fixed on John’s as he moved his head down, taking John’s cock into his mouth to the hilt, feeling it stretching his throat, as his neck brushes against John’s thighs. John tried his hardest not to move and was gripping the sheets tightly as he bit his lip and twitched on the bed. Paul pulled off again and before John could start to complain, he took him in again and started to suckle on the head as he teased him with his clever tongue, rubbing the slit and the vein at the underside of the boys cock. He was already dripping pre cum and Paul had to swallow to keep it from dripping down.

The sounds John was making were outright sinful, moaning and gasping and wordlessly begging for more. Paul could listen to him forever, but he figured his jaw would become a bit tired after a while. He moved his hands up John’s thighs, caressing his skin until he slipped a hand between John’s legs and moved below the boy’s balls where he found the puckered opening of his hole. John took in a sharp breath as Paul lightly touched the rim and circled it with his nail, careful not to hurt him, of course. John parted his legs even more to give Paul more room and Paul pulled off John’s cock for a moment to slick up his finger, before pressing it gently inside. John groaned at the feeling and tensed up briefly, but immediately relaxed again as Paul’s mouth found his cock again, distracting him.

Wanting more of that, John moved his hand to his bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. He offered them to Paul, who took them gladly as he twisted his finger inside of him, getting John’s eyes to flutter close as he fell back into the mattress.

“Please.” John asked, moving down onto Paul’s finger to let him know he wanted more. Paul pulled off with a plop and poured some lube onto his fingers, spreading it around, before moving his hand back to John’s opening. He traced the rim first, making John shiver with anticipation, before finally entering. John groaned as he felt the rim give way and himself open up. Paul’s finger inside him felt so oddly familiar, that he could not say anything more than Paul’s name. Pretty soon Paul’s finger was all the way inside him and he had to place his feet down onto the bed to give Paul a bit more room. The older man kissed his inner thigh thankfully, but before John could do anything more, another finger pressed inside.

It took him a while to open up for Paul, since it had been a while since they had last done this, but soon enough John want panting on the bed, pushing back against three of Paul’s fingers as the moved in and out of him. It felt so good and his cock was twitching, eager for some attention, but Paul had refused to touch it. It was still shiny from his spit and John wished he’d take him back into that hot, velvet mouth, but Paul wasn’t so kind. In fact he wasn’t kind at all as he retrieved his fingers and blew cold hair over John’s wet opening, making him tremble at the odd feeling.

He heard Paul rustling with something and he heard the slick noises of Paul preparing himself, spreading lube around his cock. When John finally felt the head of it press against his opening, he groaned and spread his legs as wide as they could go, eager to get John inside him.

Paul moved slowly, not wanting to hurt John, and gently lifted one of John’s thighs up in the air to create a little bit of leverage to hold himself up. John merely moaned at the feeling of Paul’s cock splitting him open and Paul had to bit his bottom lip to keep himself from coming too soon, nearly having forgotten just how good John felt around him.

Once he was finally all the way inside, he let out a deep pant and leaned down, capturing John’s lips with his own for another kiss as he held still, moving John’s leg over his shoulder. John kissed back with a passion, claiming Paul’s mouth as his own with his tongue as he pressed back against Paul, wanting him to move. Paul caught on immediately and did as John asked, panting into his mouth as he started to pull back and push in again. John moaned and cocked his head back at the feeling, his hot breath ghosting over Paul’s wet lips. Eager for more contact, Paul laid himself down on top of John, lining their bodies up as he closed his mouth over John’s shoulder and sucked again, until John was marked at his. He moved in and out of John with small moves, feeling like it might be too much if he didn’t. John’s insides were constricting around him with every move, slowly driving Paul insane, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last long like this.

“Fuck, Paul… so good. Missed this. Missed you.” John panted above him and Paul nodded eagerly as his movements grew bolder, changing his angles until he was nailing John’s prostate with nearly every move, making him gasp and pant deliciously above him.

“I love you, John. Missed you, too. God… Shit, I- I” Paul’s voice died down in the end, not being able to say anything more and hoping John would understand. The younger man wrapped his other leg around Paul’s waist, pulling him closer and urging him to move as he started to move with him, pressing back and thrusting up with his hips, making Paul go deeper and harder inside him, until neither man could do more than pant and move their hips. Paul’s fingers gripped John’s arm tightly, his nails digging into his arm and John was grabbing at his back, his nails leaving scratches on his pale skin. The almost painful feeling only heightened the feeling of his cock moving in and out of John’s arse. Paul forced himself to look up at John and he could feel his cock twitch at the sight of him. His eyes rolled back in his head, his lips parted as he panted, his hair a mess and sticking to his forehead, his beautiful feature screwed up in a expression of pure lust and divine pleasure.

Without warning, Paul finally came, his entire body shaking and trembling at the force of it as he bit down John’s shoulder and spilled himself into the condom he was wearing, driving his cock as far into John as possible on impulse and practically impaling him on it. John gasped and his body jerked before he came as well, pleasure shooting like spikes through his body, making his head fuzzy and his legs weak as they spasmed around John’s body, pulling him closer as he shot his load between his and Paul’s body, his cock untouched.

            The entire house was quiet as the two men caught their breath and cuddled up against each other. Paul had grabbed his shirt from the floor and was now cleaning both of them with effort as John caressed his chest encouragingly. It worked and finally, after far too long, Paul could throw the towel aside and pull the covers of John’s bed over them to shelter them from the sudden cold.

John’s fingers were still playing with his chest hair and the boy himself was looking at him with gentle eyes, which occasionally closed for a brief moment as John fought the sleep that was slowly taking over his body. Paul wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against him, kissing the top of his head, before gently raking his fingers through it.

“You’d look cute with longer hair, you know.” Paul muttered, frowning as he tried to imagine it. John chuckled, before yawning.

“I’ll remember that.” He replied and rubbed his face into Paul’s chest, “You’d look cute with a beard.”

“I might let one grow then.” Paul replied. He had meant it as a joke but when he saw the smile on John’s face, he knew he was going to let one grow anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

Standing half-naked, in nothing more than his underwear, in front of the mirror in the bathroom, Paul let his fingertips slide over this chin as he admired his handy work. It was odd seeing that faintly familiar black shadow again, covering his chin and jaw. He must have been in his late twenties when he had last had a beard. George had made fun of him for it, saying he looked even more adorable and baby-like with the beard than without it. At first it had hurt, as he had hoped the beard would make him look more masculine, and baby-like was almost the exact opposite of that, but he had grown fond of it and after a few weeks he hadn’t cared with George said about it. Looking back, Paul wasn’t sure why he had shaved it off.

At the moment, his “beard” was hardly anything more than an thick stubble, but it was the thought that counted. He hoped John would like it. He hadn’t seen him for almost the entire weekend, so he hoped he would like the little surprise. He could all too well remember the way John had seemed to like his little stubble when he hadn’t been able to shave one morning, so he figured he would like it, but he couldn’t be certain, of course.

He splashed some water on his face and dried himself off with a towel. He brushed his teeth and swiftly styled his hair with his fingers, not caring too much as he didn’t have anywhere to be that day and John liked it when his hair was a little messy.

The door opened and Paul could see Julia appearing in the mirror. He smiled at her and she smiled back, although she was also frowning a little. She walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and gently caressed his chin as she let his head rest on his shoulder.

“Growing a beard?” She asked and Paul nodded at her in the mirror. Julia hummed appreciatively and rubbed her face into the crook of his neck, enjoying the scratch of the hair, reminding Paul of John.

“I like it. It looks good on you.” She muttered, planing little kisses on his skin.

“Why, thank you Mrs McCartney.” He joked, enjoying the attention he was getting. She laughed at that, shaking her head. The joyous sound of his voice invaded his ear and made him relax in her arms, leaning into her warm body.

“Oh, not yet, Mister! I need a ring around my finger first.” Julia replied, still giggling into his ear and Paul chuckled along with her, staring at her through the mirror, watching the way her red hair fell over his shoulder almost flirtatiously. Damn, she looked good today. Her skin almost seemed to glow and her eyes twinkled as she looked at him.

“But you already have a ring…” He said as his eyes fell on the engagement ring on her left hand. He lifted his hand and took the ring between two of his fingers, gently playing with it. Julia hummed, but shook her head.

“I meant a wedding ring, silly. Not that this one isn’t gorgeous, by the way. ”  

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Of course, I do. You gave it to me.” She muttered back, looking back at Paul through the mirror, making their eyes lock. Paul grinned even wider at that and turned his head to kiss her, pressing his lips firmly against hers.

            As soon as she left, however, Paul starting feel bad about himself. It was stressful, finding himself between two lovers. It didn’t matter that he loved John and that he didn’t want to lose him. He still loved Julia. Sighing, he walked back into the bedroom to get dressed. John would be back by lunch, so he needed to get dressed if he wanted to look good and surprise him. The nagging feeling, however, didn’t go away as quickly.

It was strange. The only time he could really be himself was when he was alone. Only when he was alone could he let himself think about what was going on. With him. With John. With Julia. When he was with John, he didn’t want to think about Julia, fearing he would one day have to face the truth, and when he was with Julia, he had to act as if John meant nothing more to him than what you were supposed to feel for your future step son. The worst thing was that Julia wasn’t supposed to know he and John had made up after John had ran away. He and John had reasoned that it would be odd if they would be close again just a few days after he had dragged John back home, so they pretended John still hated him. It was difficult, as it meant they couldn’t spend much time together. Only at night when he could visit John’s room or when Julia wasn’t home, could they see each other. The result had been that John was spending more and more time out of the house, which is also why he wasn’t home this weekend. It was difficult, but if they didn’t Julia might get suspicious and that was many, many times worse. He wished he didn’t have to lie anymore. To either of them.

Oddly enough, Julia seemed almost happy with the fact that he and John hardly spent any time together as far as she knew. She was her own happy self again, humming songs and acting a little crazy at times– like the girl with whom Paul had fallen in love. At first, he had put it down to their engagement and the fact that John was safely back at home, but as they days had passed he wasn’t so sure anymore. Yet, Paul decided not to give it much thought. She was happy again and that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? Besides, he had enough on his mind to think about.

He pushed the remaining thoughts away and buttoned up his shirt before pulling on his sweater vest. He admired himself in the mirror and went downstairs to have a cup of tea as he waited for John to get home. At least tomorrow it was Monday, which meant he was done early at work due to a change in his schedule, which in turn meant that he and John would have some time alone at home in the afternoon before everyone else got home. He was already looking forward to it and he could only hope John was too.

            His heart made a funny little jump as John stumbled into the living room, his guitar thrown over his shoulder. His hair was hanging down sluggishly and it looked greasy. His eyes were a dull brown and he had dark circles under them, making him seem older than he was. Overall, he looked absolutely exhausted and just about ready to crash onto the floor and sleep for an hour or two, before either he or Julia decided to pick him up and carry him into his bedroom. He glanced around the room briefly, before huffing and turning around to stumble up the stairs. Paul and Julia glanced at each other, neither knowing what to do.

“John?” Julia asked, calling John back. The boy huffed again, but still turned around, albeit with difficulty, making Paul wonder what the hell he had been up to over the weekend. After all, it was a school day tomorrow! Oh dear… he was starting to sound like a dad. Was this the end?

“You look horrible.” The words were out before he had even realised he had wanted to say them. John looked up at him in surprise, his dead eyes looking straight through Paul. It was a bit unnerving. He had never seen John like this. Normally, he was always so full of emotion, whether they be bad or good ones. Now, though, it seemed like John wasn’t capable to feel anything anymore.

“Oh ain’t that a shame. I thought the "exhausted-and-feeling-like-death-himself-has-taken-over-my-body” look would suit me. Silly me, of course.“ John retorted, his voice as dull as his eyes. Yet, the words cut through Paul’s heart like ice. He knew it was only an act. If John and him had been alone, John would have crawled into his lap like a kitten and practically demanded him to bring him to bed and tuck him in. Still, the words hurt.

"John! When will you get over it and drop that attitude?! It’s been going on for long enough. Or is this your idea of rebelling?” Julia told him off, her voice surprisingly hard, surprising John and Paul both. For a moment John even seemed to be at a loss of words. He found them quicker than Paul, however.

“Maybe when you realise you’re making a mistake with this one. His pretty face don’t fool me. He can’t even grow a proper beard. I told you he’s either queer or a girl.”

“John!”

“It’s true, innit? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sleep.” John concluded, his voice dying off in the end to a low mutter. He yawned and prompted turned around to go to his room. Julia and Paul watched him go in silence, not knowing what to say.

Paul knew John hadn’t meant what he had said. It was just an act, pretending to dislike him so Julia wouldn’t become suspicious about them. Still, John knew how to hurt him. He had head it all before, of course. From John and others, but it still hurt. And even more so because it was John who said those words. He loved John. He didn’t want John to hate him.

Still, he knew better than that so he ignored the sting in his chest and told Julia it was fine. That John just needed some time to get used it and that they would be okay again in a few days, just like before when he had just moved in. Julia nodded at that with a sigh, hoping he was right.

            As he closed the door behind him, John let out a deep sigh, and put his guitar aside. He was absolutely exhausted, which was pretty much the only lie he hadn’t told downstairs. He didn’t like having to pretend to be angry with Paul. He didn’t like seeing that look of hurt on the other man’s face, even if he knew it was all just an act. A damn good one, but still an act. It never failed to make him feel guilty, though.

He wished he didn’t have to lie. When he was Paul sitting there, he had wanted to do nothing more but sleep in his arms and slowly let the older man lull him into a peaceful slumber. But he hadn’t been able to. He loved his mother, he really did and he wished she could find someone who truly loved her and whom she could marry, but he just really wished it hadn’t been Paul. Paul was his, damn it. Or sort of, at least. He brushed his hair out of his face with his hand and stumbled over to his bed, letting himself fall face down on top of it as he tried to put Paul out of his mind for a little while. Just for a while so he could sleep.

John groaned as he let his body relax into the mattress, already feeling some of his exhaustion ebb away. It wasn’t his exhaustion that was bothering John. He was used to staying up late and survive on very little sleep for days without anyone noticing, but this was different. Normally when he didn’t sleep, it was his own choice. This time, however, Stuart had been keeping him up all night while John had tried to find sleep. He had already been tired since they had gone out and he had only just came home, but compared to what he was feeling now, he shouldn’t have been moaning about it.

Because this time, it had been Stuart who had kept him up all night, screwing his bird on the mattress next to his for almost the entirety of the night, the hotly whispered praises and moans and screams of pleasure filling his ear none-stop. It had been torture, being awoken again every time he had been about to fall asleep by that bird’s giggly cries. He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink and once the two love birds had finally fallen asleep themselves, John had been far past sleep and was dangling dangerously with one foot in hysteria.

He groaned and rolled over, looking up at the ceiling, finding patterns as he waited for the sleep to come. He would only take a short little nap until dinner. It might even help him get through the evening, meaning he’d be awake if Paul wanted to come visit him. He hoped he did, since that beard, or stubble, did look very good on him and he could hardly wait to tell him so and touch it, feel it rub against his skin, maybe even against the skin of his inner thigh…

John giggled into the pillow under his head, before letting out another yawn, sleep finally catching up with him. He didn’t doubt Eric was off just as bad as he was. Damn that slut Stuart! His eyes fell shut and almost right away, John fell into a wonderful deep sleep, finally getting the rest he needed.

            Paul kept staring at the clock, as he watched time tick by. Julia was peacefully asleep next to him, her arm thrown around his waist. Still, he needed to wait at at least another fifteen minutes before he could try to untangle himself from her grip and go to see John. They needed to be careful, so they had decided Paul wouldn’t come to his room before half past twelve. Paul could only hope John would still be awake by then. He had looked particularly tired, even after John had obviously taken a nap until dinner. They hadn’t even been able to talk, yet.

Sighing, he glanced over his shoulder as Julia. She seemed sound asleep. Maybe he could go now? What did those fourteen minutes matter, anyway? But then again, John had seemed pretty damn serious when he had suggested the rule, so maybe he’d better not if he didn’t want John get mad at him or anything. He didn’t feel like arguing at this hour. He just wanted to slide into bed with John, feel him against his own body and talk, whisper into each others ears and looking into each others eyes. Sex wouldn’t be bad, but for some reason Paul wasn’t feeling it as much.

He turned back on his side and glanced at the clock again, just eleven more minutes. He groaned and pulled his covers a bit higher up to nuzzle his nose in the material. He knew time wasn’t playing tricks on him, but sometimes it could really feel that way. Just ten more minutes. He was going to make that.

            He didn’t. Eight minutes later, Paul stood outside John’s room, glancing at the watch around his wrist. Two minutes. Surely, John wouldn’t mind that much. He took a deep breath, hoping John had indeed been acting when he had insulted him that morning, so he couldn’t be thrown out. He sighed in relief when he saw John was still up, reading in bed. He looked up and smiled as he heard his bedroom door open and smiled at Paul the moment he noticed him standing in the door way.

“Hi…” He said, his voice a whisper. Paul smiled back, feeling how his heart  slowed down and relief washed over him, his muscles relaxing and his breathing becoming less shallow.

“Hi.” He replied and smiled back. He stepped further inside and closed the door behind him as John put his book away and took off his glasses, which he put on top of his book. Paul walked over to him, beckoned John to move over a bit and slid in besides John. Almost immediately, John curled his body up around his, his breathing ghosting over his shoulder.

“Did you miss me?” John asked softly and Paul hummed as a reply, turning his head to gently kiss John’s lips. The boy moaned in reply as their lips touched, a hand coming up to hold his under the covers.

“I did.” Paul replied after he pulled away, sighing as he took in all the little details of John’s face, not wanting to ever forget how he looked when they were alone. Soft and gentle, without the mask, but still so John. “I take it you had fun this weekend.” He continued with a grin. John groaned at that and shook his head.

“No… I just couldn’t sleep since Stuart was too busy fucking his girl to keep quiet for us. Eric and Ringo aren’t feeling much better, to be honest. Certainly Eric, as he was with me and Ringo was in the other room, sleeping on the couch.”

“Aw, poor boys you were.” Paul replied with a little smirk, feeling glad John had indeed been acting and was still his adorable little self, even if he didn’t want to hear it.

“Yes, well, I’m home now.” John said, burying his face in Paul’s bare chest. He giggled and looked up again, catching Paul’s eyes immediately as the older man had been staring at him.

“I am glad you’re home.” Paul whispered and John smiled back at him, leaning up to kiss him on the lips, moaning  Paul’s name at the contact. When he pulled away, he moved his hands up to caress his face. His fingers lingered on his chin.

“You’ve started to grow a beard.” John muttered, merely pointing out a stupid little fact. Paul chuckled at that and nodded.

“You liked it?” He asked and John nodded before kissing him again.

“I love it.”

            The two boys lay together for a while, sharing the same air and listening to each other’s heartbeats as they told each other stories. When John started to talk about his uncle George, however, Paul could hear there was a change in his voice. It got sadder, more heavy and subconsciously, Paul tightened his grip on John’s body, pulling him in as he listened to him talk.

“He taught me how to ride a bike, you know. He was a great guy. The best uncle I could have wished for. He was a prankster, like me. He liked to drink and listen to rock and roll, despite Mimi’s reminders that it wasn’t even proper music. He was handy, too. He made me a radio for in my room, so I could listen to my favourite shows upstairs, so I didn’t have to interrupt Mimi’s music anymore. He helped me with the girls, before I knew, that is. I think he would have accepted me, though, if he had still been… He liked my cats, too. He even made Mimi change her mind and let me keep a few. He was very fond of me and I was of him. He was the best uncle I could have wished for.” John spoke softly, swallowing thickly at the memories.

“Mimi was different too when he was around. More happy, more calm. She laughed more too. When he died, she… I don’t think she knew how to deal with it. Not really. Not that I knew either. I got sad, angry, violent. I don’t think uncle George would have been very proud of me.” John continued. Paul didn’t miss the small crack in his voice at those last words and he pulled John closer to him, intertwining his legs with John’s.  

“John, luv,” He whispered as he kissed the shell of John’s ear, “I don’t doubt he would have been very proud of you.”

“You think so?” John asked, his voice uncharacteristically hopeful. Paul looked down and smiled at him, leaning in to kiss his lips. Just a simple little kiss. John responded half-heartedly, the thought about his uncle still troubling him.

“Of course, I do,” Paul answered when he pulled away and John’s lips curled up in a careful smile right away, “I’m sure he could have understood. He sounds like a great guy.” John smiled even broader at that and nodded, before laying his head back down on Paul’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, enjoying the soothing rhythm as Paul played with his hair, sliding his fingers through it and pushes it back. John sighed and smiled sadly as he remembered his favourite uncle, almost being able to hear his voice again after so long. It sounded so real, even if it was only his imagination.

“He was…” he agreed sadly and let out a painful snicker, feeling his throat constrict as his eyes started to burn. He rubbed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to collect himself. A tear managed to escape the corner of his eye, anyway, and for the first time in quite some time, John wished Uncle George was back again, teaching him how to play the mouth organ. But at least now he had Paul. Paul who was still whispering in his ear and holding him tightly, gently rocking him in his arms to try to sooth him. Paul, who truly loved him. He loved him, too.

“I’m tired.” He muttered softly, feeling those words burn on his tongue. Paul nodded and pulled away from him, helping him lay down and tucking him in, before slipping out of bed and moving to kiss him one last time before going back to bed for the evening.

“See you again tomorrow? Same time?” He asked and John nodded.

“Yes…” He whispered and Paul smiled as he nodded back. He hovered briefly at John’s bed, before walking back to the door, looking a bit unsure of what to do next. John couldn’t say he was the only one.

“Paul,” He finally said as Paul pulled open his bedroom door and was about to step through, “I do really like your beard. It’s manly.” He finished with a wink and Paul smiled and blew John a kiss as a thank you, before disappearing through the door, closing it behind him and leaving John alone in his room again. Maybe, someday, Paul would be able to stay the night. And with that last thought, John finally fell asleep, a smile on his lips.

* * *

 

When John had decided to skip the last class of the day to hang out with Paul before his mother and sister would be home, this wasn’t how he had imagined them spending that time. Paul had tricked him of course. Who would have thought that with tutoring, Paul would actually mean… tutoring? Well, John certainly hadn’t when he had come home and told Paul his last class had been cancelled at the last minute. He thought Paul had meant some kinky roll playing. He, after all, had imagined them spending their two hours in a bed, shagging each other’s brains out without having to be as quiet as death himself.

Well… here he was! Sitting behind his desk and having to listen to Paul explaining how to answer a question he didn’t have the answer to. And as if life wasn’t unfair enough to him, Paul was using the material he would have had class on right that moment, too, meaning he could as well have stayed in school that last hour. Well, at least he could spend the time with Paul, which was better than nothing. Besides, it was fun to see how long John could tease Paul while trying to be unaware of the fact that he was, until Paul would snap and finally abandon their tutoring sessions for something a lot more sexy.

At the moment, John had his leg pressed again Paul’s as he leaned in far too closely to Paul than was necessary to see what Paul was pointing out as he spoke. Not that he was listening. Not really. They were talking about the basics of renaissance art, and something about individuals or something. He was mostly listening to the sound of Paul’s voice, rather than the actual words he was saying, let alone on what they meant when put together. His foot was lightly rubbing against Paul’s, just staying still enough to make it come off as unintentional. He had his face close to Paul’s ear, making it so he was speaking directly into Paul’s ear whenever he said something.It was clear it was having an effect, if the waver in Paul’s voice was anything to go by, making John feel smug as he tried not to grin, which would give away his intentions.

Glancing over at Paul’s thigh, he licked his lips and gently laid his hand on Paul’s inner thigh, not missing the way Paul shuddered before he tried to pull away. John merely followed his movements, trying to make it seem like he was completely unaware of the effect he was having.

“John…” Paul finally said, his voice breathy, making John look up at him, locking eyes and trying not to pull away as Paul turned his head. Their noses were almost touching, that was how close they were. John didn’t have to fake surprise, however, when Paul started to smile and shake his head as he looked away again, breaking the tension he had been so sure he had created.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, John.” Paul told him as he lifted John’s hand from his thigh and placed it on the desk instead as he crossed his legs.

“Doing what?” John tried nonetheless, feeling rather annoyed Paul had managed to see through it and somehow had managed to resist him, despite knowing they could be making out on a bed right now.

“I’m not stupid. You’ve played all your cards already. ” Paul told him, that amused smile still on his lisp. John felt the urge to kiss it off.

“But still, though… come on, Paul. We still have an hour, you know. It’s not to late to-”

“John, you want to make it through this year, don’t you?” Paul asked, turning to him again and looking him sternly in the eye, the smile now fading. Now, however, John wished he could kiss it back on instead.

“Well… yeah, but-”

“Then you need to work.”

“Fuck work! Come on, Paul. Just a little kiss. I promise I’ll be the best student you have after. Deal?”

“John-”

“Just a kiss!”

“You need to learn this some day. You’ll get one-”

The doorbell rang, rudely interrupting Paul when he had just started to say something interesting. John groaned and got up from his seat to look out of his window to see who dared to bother them now they were finally alone. He pulled the curtain aside and frowned as he saw Stuart standing at his doorstep, looking up at his window and beckoning him to come down. Groaning he stepped away from the window.

“It’s Stu. I’ll go see what he wants and get rid of him so we can start having sex already.” John said with a sigh as he made his way to the door.

“You mean study.” Paul replied dryly, and John faked a laugh.

“I’ll be right back.” He promised, before disappearing through the door.

            When John finally returned, Paul had taken a seat on his bed, figuring John might be right and they had to take every opportunity they had, seeing as they already had so little time together. As soon as John stepped through the door, however, and he saw the small apologetic smile, he knew they were out of luck.

“Band practise. I er… I totally forgot!” John said with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! If you manage to get famous, I might start not feeling bad for being so easily persuaded to have sex, rather than make you learn something.” Paul replied with a laugh, standing back up. John laughed too, but he still looked like he was feeling guilty, to Paul stepped close, cupped his cheek in his hand and brought up his lips to kiss them. John let out a pleased hum at the touch, his lips curling up in a smile.

“I’ll just come a little earlier this evening. If you want me to, of course.” Paul suggested as he pulled away and John nodded.

“That would be nice.” He whispered, lifting a hand to caress Paul’s rough chin, “Stuart’s waiting for me, so…”

“Right. I’ll piss off. Take your key with you, would you? Just in case. I don’t think Julia would appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night because you can’t get in.”

“Or I’ll just climb in through your bedroom window.” John suggested with a cheeky little wink and Paul laughed as he pulled away from the younger man.  

“Please don’t.” He said as he got his stuff and made his way out of John’s bedroom to give him some time to grab his stuff. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, the idea of getting John naked having grown on him in the few minutes John had been talking to Stuart.

            Paul found Stuart in the living room, sitting on the couch and looking around himself as he waited for his friend to get his stuff. As soon as he heard Paul’s footsteps approach, he looked up, clearly hoping it was John.

“Hello, Stuart.” Paul greeted him as he walked into the living room to dump his stuff on his desk. The young man on his couch gave a small nod as he said hello back. Paul smiled at him as he turned around and moved to sit on his desk as he looked at Stuart, taking him in.

“Thanks, by the way, for looking after John.” He said with a small smile. There was something defensive in Stuart’s demeanour. He had his chin raised and his shoulders were tense. Even his eyes seemed oddly cold.

“Of course. He’s my best mate.” He replied, and Paul nodded at that, not sure how to act around the younger man. He had always like Stuart. He had been a nice guy, but now… something had changed, although Paul wasn’t sure why. He continued to watch him, looking for something, anything that could tell him why Stuart was acting so differently towards him now. It remained silent between the two men for a few seconds, both only looking at each other, until Stuart finally told Paul all he wanted to know with one simple remark.

“I hear you and John made up.” He muttered, his voice almost a growl.

“Yes. We did.” Paul replied easily.

“I told him not to, you know. I told him to face the facts.” Stuart continued, looking Paul dead in the eye, and Paul swallowed thickly at that. It was odd that Stuart, who was so many years younger than he was, could make him feel… intimidated. Almost. “I wasn’t very happy when I heard you two were together. I wished he would have found someone his own age.”

“I can promise you, Stuart, I would have preferred it if we had been the same age as well.” Paul replied quickly, forcing out a small smile.

“But you’re not, though. You’re engaged to his mother!”

“Stuart-”

“Do you have any idea how much pain you caused him with that?! He had been wandering the streets for I don’t know how long before he finally came to me! His skin was _blue_! He was fucking broken. John doesn’t cry, but he does for you. And I don’t even understand why! Don’t get me wrong, you’re a nice guy, Paul, even I can see that. But that’s pretty much it, isn’t it?” Stuart told him, looking down right angry with him. Honestly, Paul didn’t know what to say. John had told him any of that. He had just sort of supposed John had gone to Stuart almost right away, not that he had… His fingers trembled by his sides as he imagined him, standing at Stuart’s door, shivering from the cold, his skin gone blue. He wondered what else John hadn’t told him about what happened. Probably a lot. Now he thought about, they had hardly spoken at all about what happened when John had ran away. Only about before that.

“Was that what you were fighting about? Why John left? Because you didn’t want us to be-”

“No! Wait… John didn’t tell you?” Stuart asked, frowning as he studied Paul. Now, Paul was only more confused. What the fuck had even happened in those few days? That Stuart thought John would have felt the need to share with him, apparently.

“He… He kissed me.” Stuart spoke, his voice soft, his eyes still studying Paul’s face for a reaction.

“What?” Paul asked, not sure if he had heard well. Why would John…

“He kissed me.” Stuart repeated, this loud and clear, so Paul knew he had heard correctly. Stuart and John had kissed?! Did John… was John in love with Stuart? He opened his mouth to say something, ask how and why and when, but before he could, he heard John running down the stairs, his guitar smashing into the wall, followed by a loud curse. He and turned their heads in surprise, both having almost forgotten they had been waiting for John.

“Okay, Stu! I’m ready. I couldn’t find by pick, but it had slipped between the pages of the notebook you gave me. Gear that, though. The notebook.” John said, sounding extremely cheerful in contrast to the tension in the living room. Paul couldn’t help but look from John to Stuart and back again, as he slowly started to realise John had kissed the boy who was currently sitting on his couch. Stuart got up and zipped up his coat as he walked over to John, smiling at him as if nothing was wrong. Paul knew he shouldn’t punch someone so young, especially not over such a petty thing as jealousy, but god, did he want to. When he looked back at John, their eyes locked, and he forced himself to smile as he saw John was looking at him weirdly.

“Right…” He said, as he looked from him to his friend and back, obviously wandering what had happened between them that could make Paul’s mood change so suddenly, “I’ll see you this evening then.” John smiled back and walked over to him, standing on his toes to lean in for a goodbye kiss and Paul would be lying if he said he didn’t try to make the best of it, surprising John with his forcefulness as he kept his eyes locked on Stuart, making sure he knew John was his territory. He hated himself for feeling smug as he saw Stuart pale at the sight of his friend kissing his much older lover, but fuck that felt good.

            The rest of the afternoon and that evening, Paul couldn’t stop thinking about John and Stuart. He knew it was a stupid thing to get jealous about. It had just been a kiss. Why they had kissed, Paul didn’t know. And how often, he didn’t know either. But apparently it had caused them to fight and John to run away. No matter how many times Paul mauled it over in his head, it didn’t make any sense to him.

He was sitting in an armchair, the paper in his hand, but he wasn’t reading it. Julia was upstairs with Jules, telling her good night, meaning he had no distraction what so ever from over thinking every thing. What if John was in love with Stuart? Or worse, what if Stuart was in love with him as well? Was that why they had fought? Because Stuart wanted John to be with him instead? That made some sense. But now they were friends again. And what did that mean? And most importantly, why hadn’t John told him he had kissed Stuart?! It would have been the proper thing to do, seeing as they had basically still been together. He wouldn’t have minded it if John had been honest with him about it and just told them what happened between them. And why wouldn’t he say anything? Except if it had meant something more…

Paul jumped in his seat as he heard the front door open. He held his breath and listened closely as he put the newspaper aside. He could hear John stumbling about, probably taking off his shoes and coat. It wasn’t long before John stepped into the living room, his lips curling up as soon as he saw Paul was alone.

“Hello there.” He said with a cheeky wink. He looked good. Fuck, he did. His hair messy from the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold, in his black turtle-neck with tight black jeans. Still, Paul found it difficult to enjoy it, knowing Stuart had had the pleasure to look at him like that, too.

“What are you looking all serious for?” John asked with a little laugh as he walked further inside and stepped in front of Paul. He put his hands on Paul’s knees and gently pushed them apart, so he could stand between them as he looked down at Paul, their eyes locked. Yet, all Paul could think about is John doing to same to Stuart and fuck it made his hands twitch with the need to punch something. Preferable Stuart. No, he needed to know. He couldn’t pretend nothing was wrong. He needed to know. To hear it from John.

“Why didn’t you tell me you kissed Stuart?” He asked, trying to keep his voice down, despite the anger building up inside of him as the words passed his lips, making them seem even more real. John blinked down at him a few times, before shyly looking away.

“So that’s why you were acting weird when Stuart was here. He told you.” He said and Paul nodded, even though technically hadn’t been a question. John sighed and moved to kneel down instead.

“Honestly, I didn’t think it was important. It had been a stupid mistake. It’s not like I actually like Stuart that way. Stuart certainly doesn’t feel that way about me…”

“Why did you do it, then? If you don’t like him?” Paul asked, his words coming out harsher than he meant them. John bit his lip as he thought about the question, and Paul felt himself getting more and more impatient, finding it hard to believe you would kiss anyone without finding them at least attractive.

“I don’t know…” John finally answered, and Paul had to bite his tongue to keep quiet, knowing that was bullshit. You didn’t just magically kiss someone for no reason at all. Certainly not when you were in a relationship with someone. “I was just confused and I thought that maybe he liked me. I felt kind of stupid after he pushed me away, so I ran.” He continued, giving Paul a careful smile as he looked up at him from where he was kneeling. They could hear Jules running around upstairs, followed by some muffled shouts from Julia, telling her to get into bed already.

“Why didn’t you tell me then? If it didn’t mean anything? If you were just confused?”

“Why should I? Like you say, it didn’t mean anything. Besides, it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything. You kiss my mum all the time.” John replied, his voice almost bitter.

“That’s different, John, and you know it.” Paul snapped at him, but John shook his head.

“Is it, Paul? Why then? Why would you be allowed to kiss other people all the time. Hell, even when I’m right fucking there, and I can’t even kiss a guy because I didn’t have a clue how to deal with what I was feeling.” John asked as got to his feet again, staring back at Paul with a strong glare.

“Because you’re mine! I don’t like to think about you being with anyone else!” Paul snapped at him, trying his hardest to keep his voice lowered, knowing Julia would be able to hear them if he didn’t. John, however, didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“Well!” He shouted, his voice raised, “maybe I don’t like it either!” He told him firmly as he turned around and stormed off without giving Paul a chance to reply. Sure enough, not even a minute later, Julia came into the living room, asking what had been going on. Paul sighed, leaning over and taking his head in his hands as he shook his head.

“Nothing. Just another argument.” He muttered and Julia sighed.

“I’ll talk to him about it. It’s getting out of hand, this.” She said, but Paul shook his head.

“No. Just leave him.” He said, as he realised he might have made a bit of a mistake.

            John had stayed in his room for the rest of the evening, not feeling like dealing with either Paul or his mother. He knew he should have told Paul about what happened between him and Stuart, but if he quite honest with himself, he had forgotten. He had wanted to, but he had been so happy when they had made up he had simply forgotten. He and Paul hadn’t spoken at all about those days when he had ran away, as they had focused more on the here and now, considering it might be all they had left until they would have to stop.

Still, it hadn’t been fair of Paul to say he wasn’t allowed to kiss anyone because he didn’t like it. For all John had known, things had been over between them, so really, it hadn’t made much sense at all, but even if they had still been together, it wasn’t fair. He had to watch Paul and his mother being intimate hundreds of time. He had to watch Paul and Julia kiss and cuddle on the couch, or whisper silly things to each other. Hell, Paul was fucking engaged and he was telling John wasn’t allowed to even kiss anyone!

It was fucking ridiculous and John was still angry about it. Didn’t Paul know what it was like to see that every single fucking day?! To see the man you loved make out with a _woman_. To know that that man was fucking her too. It was fucking unfair, so fuck Paul for even thinking for one second that was a good reason to get angry at him for kissing Stuart.

There was a knock on his door and John tensed up as he muttered a “come in” into his pillow. The door still opened and John could hear careful footsteps coming into his room.

“What do you want, Paul?” John asked, not looking up from where he was lying with his face down in a pillow. The footsteps halted and John strained his ears, waiting for the older man to say anything. “Well?” He asked after a few more seconds of silence.

“I- I wanted to apologize,” Paul finally spoke, his voice sounding weak and fragile, genuine, “for what I said. It should have realised that… that you have to deal with that every day. I’m an arse.” He sighed deeply after he finished and John closed his eyes as he took a few deep breaths, hating how quickly he could forgive the other man.

“You are.” He replied softly, and he could hear Paul take a few steps towards his bed. Yet, he kept his distance.

“Can I… sit down?” Paul asked softly, and John snickered at his nervousness before rolling over to look up at him. He stared at his face for a few seconds, surprised to see Paul look so… uncertain. It wasn’t a look Paul wore often. He nodded and moved aside so Paul had more room. The older man nodded thankfully and moved to sit down at the side of the bed, but as soon as he was close enough, John reached out for Paul’s hand and pulled him down to lie besides him. Without another word he curled up around Paul, resting his head on the older man’s chest.

“I should have told you about Stuart. I just forgot and nothing happened between us. Nothing will ever. It was just a stupid mistake. I guess I just… I was missing you so much that I just hoped that maybe Stuart could take my mind of you and make things a bit easier. It was stupid, I know, especially as I had never seen Stuart so shocked before in my life!” John told him with an amused laugh at the memory. Paul didn’t laugh along with him. Instead, he merely wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him closer.

“I just wished you had been honest with me. I’m not even such a jealous person, really. I just… I don’t know…” Paul finished with a sigh, not able to find the right words to tell John what he meant. Yet, John seemed to understand him anyway, as he lifted his head and looked up at Paul, locking his eyes on his and holding his gaze for a while as they simply stared into each other’s eyes.

“I get it.” He said finally, smiling, “I’m worse, you know. I get so fucking possessive. It’s pretty much why I stay away from home so much lately. I feel like I might actually break something if I see you kiss my mum one more time.”

Paul chuckled at that, and raised a hand to brush a hair behind John’s ear and pull him up a little. John went with him easily, letting Paul position him, until he was looking straight down at Paul, his hands on his shoulders and their lips only inches apart. Smiling down at him, John closed his eyes and leaned in to brush their lips together. He let out a moan at the contact, feeling Paul’s lips tremble against his and his bread against his own smoothly shaven chin. The feeling was almost ticklish. When he pulled away again and opened his eyes, he wanted to do it again. Paul was just so beautiful. Especially this up close, when he could see him clearly.

“I am sorry.” Paul whispered softly, his voice almost inaudible and John smiled. Then suddenly, his smile widened even more, as he remembered something he had wanted to tell Paul before in the living room. “What?” Paul asked, looking suspiciously up at him.

“I wanted to tell you before, but our next gig is this Friday. At seven. I thought you might want to know.” John told him with a wink, his mind already playing out different scenarios in his head about what might happen during and after the gig that Friday, his heart racing in his chest with excitement. Paul, however, didn’t seem to have understood yet.

“Oh. I suppose I could see if I can come watch.” He muttered, a frown on his forehead, “If you want me to be there, of course.”

“You kind of have to come, Paul. Or else our bet wouldn’t make much sense.” John told him with a giggle, but Paul still didn’t seem to understand. If anything, he seemed even more confused. So John rolled with his eyes and moved off of Paul as he walked over to his closet. He grabbed what he needed and held it behind his back as he tiptoed back to Paul and laid back down on top of him. Paul waited patiently for John to show him what he wanted to show.

“Does this remind you of anything?” John asked with a smirk, his cheeks growing hot, as he showed Paul the pair of dark blue panties. As soon as Paul laid eyes on them, he gasped in understanding, his eyes growing wide. He looked positively adorable like that.

“You know… you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It was only a stupid bet.” Paul told him as John pulled the panties over his head, wearing them like a hat and making Paul laugh, before reaching up and pulling them off again.

“Don’t be silly. You won fair and square. Besides, I like wearing them. I’ve been looking forward to it in fact.” John told him with a wiggle of his eyebrow as he watched Paul play with the material, his cheeks reddening as if he were a horny teenagers, rather than an adult. “Especially, if it means you’ll make love to me afterwards.” John added, taking in a deep breath as he waited for Paul’s reaction, not knowing how he’d react to the use of “making love” rather than “fuck”. Sure enough, like John had expected, Paul looked up at him in surprise, but unlike what he had thought he smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him, nipping with his lips at John’s.

“I’ll come. If only I get to repay you with doing something for you.” Paul told him, not even saying anything about it, and John sighed in relief.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning down to kiss Paul’s chin, feeling the scratch of his beard against his lips. Paul let him, cocking his head back slightly to give him more room, as he wrapped one of his legs around John’s and started to roll them around, so John was the one who was lying on his back on the bed. He frowned when Paul started to make his way down his body, slowly sliding off him, but not touching him or anything. When he went past his crotch, John truly didn’t understand what Paul was doing anymore.

“I,” Paul started as he sat up at the end of the bed, next to John’s feet, which he moved onto his lap, “want you to masturbate for me.”

It took a while for the words to sink in, but when they did, John felt his entire body shudder as he melted into the bed, realising what Paul had in mind and loving it already.

“Oh shit…” He breathed, throwing his head back into the pillow as he felt blood rushing down to his cock already, and he hadn’t even started yet. He was oddly aware of Paul, as the older man moved around a bit more, trying to find a comfortable position from where he still easily see John. Just the realisation that Paul was going to be watching him, made John’s cock twitch again. Yes, this was going to be good.

            Paul helped him out of his clothing, already whispering to John how pretty he was and that he couldn’t wait to see him pleasure himself for him. John’s mind felt woozy as he listened to him, nodding along despite knowing he didn’t have too, as he unbuttoned his sleeping shirt, letting it lay open as he moved his hands to his nipples to work them as Paul took off his underwear and socks, wanting him completely naked. Obviously, John was more than happy to comply to that.

His cock was already half-heart, showing the effect Paul had on him clearly, and he didn’t miss the way Paul licked his lips at the sight. He let out a deep shuddering breath as he one hand further down until his fingers reached his pubic hair, holding off and teasing himself. He let out a soft groan as he felt lust slowly taken over his brain, heightening every sensation on his body.

“You ready?” Paul whispered, needing to be quiet or else they’ll get caught. John quickly nodded, gently rubbing the pink nipple with his thumb, feeling how his cock started to react to it.

“Please…” He muttered back and Paul gently shushed him by placing a finger on his lips as he let his gaze run over John’s naked body.

“You’re doing good, John. Such a good boy. Come on, don’t be shy.” Paul said and John nodded again as he rolled the little nip around with his thump, groaning as pleasure already started to build up. He had always liked playing with his nipples, the feeling being strange, yet pleasurable. His other hand, however, moved further down, fingers disappearing into the curls up hair until their brushed against his half-hard cock, making him bite down his lip as he thrusted up with his hips.

“Such a handsome boy. Just wrap you hand around it. That’s it. Do you feel how hot it is? How heavy it weighs in you hand?” Paul asked and John nodded as he let his eyes fall close, his thumb moving to his other nipple as his fingers wrapped themselves around his cock like Paul had told him to do. He could feel Paul’s gaze on him, taking in the sight of him, and fuck if that didn’t make this any better. Slowly, he started to move his hand, rubbing himself until he was fully erect.

“That’s it, John. So well you’re doing. Now, tighten your hand and thrust up your hips. Fuck your fist. Yes… slowly now, don’t rush it. Fuck, John, you’re making me so hard, looking a pretty as you do. Does that feel good?”

“Uh-uh.” John moaned back, moving up his movements slightly, thrusting up into his hand and letting his thumb rub the head with every thrust. God, it felt so good, and having Paul whispering all those praises too him, those obscenities, it just made it so much better. He bit down his lip as he felt the urge to moan again, reminding himself to keep quiet as his other hand moved down to cup his balls and roll them around. He could hear Paul’s breathing straining at the sight, and fuck it if that didn’t make him feel smug.

He continued to wank himself as he listened to Paul’s breathing, making sure to give him a bit of a show as well, as he moved with his hips and moaned out his name a few times. After another minute, John could feel Paul moving on the bed, reaching over for something.

“Give me your hand.” Paul muttered softly as he sat back down and John let go off his balls with a disappointed groaning, having been enjoying that. He gasped when he felt Paul drizzle some lube onto his fingers, and he blushed deeply as he realised what Paul wanted him to do.

“Now, spread those legs for me, John. I bet you’re feeling empty. Don’t worry, we’re going to fill you up soon. I know how much you need it. You need it, don’t you?” Paul asked and he found himself nodding “yes” as he spread the lube around and spread his legs a little wider, giving Paul a better few of his hole. He could only imagine what he’d look like. Spread out and wanking himself with one hand as he moved his other hand down, below his balls until he reached his hole, tight and yet inviting. He gasped as he pressed a fingers against the rim and circled it, the coldness still surprising him.

“That’s good. Just spread it around, good boy. Now, slowly let your finger slide in. Slowly. Let me watch.” Paul muttered and John nodded as he did what he was asked, slowly sliding his finger inside himself, feeling how his hole stretched to accommodate his finger. It wasn’t painful by far, but the feeling was weird. God, he felt tight.

“I bet you’re tight. You always are. So perfect, John. Slide it all the way in. Feel how you’re stretching. Oh fuck…” Paul breathed and John cracked open an eye to see Paul stroking himself through his underwear, biting his lips as he had his gaze fixed on the spot between his legs.

Pressing his finger the rest of the way in, John lightly started moaning Paul’s name, already regretting having asked for this. It felt good, it really did, but fuck… he needed something inside him. He needed Paul. He needed Paul to touch him, to kiss him, to finger him himself and slide inside to fuck him. Oh god! His eyes rolled back in his head as he accidentally pressed down his prostate, causing his jaw to go slack as he moaned Paul’s name again.

“Please…” He muttered as he started to push against finger inside along the first, needing more. Paul gasped at the sight, muttering more foul things as John started to scissor his fingers inside himself, opening him up.

“Paul…” He begged after a few more minutes, his fingers tightening around his cock, not wanting to come just yet, “Please… oh god… I need you. Please.” He let out a helpless whine as he started to mover his fingers more rapidly inside himself, not feeling full enough, needing more, needing Paul. He shuddered and mouthed Paul’s name as he felt a hand on his knee, followed by the feeling of Paul’s lips against his neck, as the older man laid down besides him.

“Shh…” he whispered to him, “I’m here. Come on.” He kissed his way up John’s neck to his mouth and kissed him sweetly as he moved his hand between John’s legs and took away John’s fingers. John complied and stopped masturbating as Paul took a hold of his legs and hauled him on top of him, making him straddle his thighs as he sat him down on top of him, his cock sliding between John’s arse cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked as he broke the kiss, caressing John’s cheek and making him look up at him as he helped him position himself correctly by holding his hips. John opened his eyes and nodded, letting out another shuddering breath as he moved a bit higher up.

“Yes… please, Paul. I need you. I want you inside me.” He told him and Paul groaned at the words, before chuckling.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to talk dirty.” He breathed as he reached for his cock and aligned it with John’s opening, gently applying pressure and feeling the way John’s rim parted for him. John glared at him for the comment, and sat up a bit more as he started to lower himself onto Paul’s cock, taking him in deeper and deeper, groaning with every inch, until he was firmly seated in Paul’s lap, his mouth hanging slack. Paul was biting his lip as he got used to the feeling of John around him, still so tight. For the longest time, neither of them moved, until Paul started to whimper, the tightness becoming too much without the needed friction.

“John, luv, you have to move. Just ride me. Slowly. I’ll guide you.” Paul whispered softly in a husky voice, and John nodded as he bit down his lip and did as Paul had told him to. He slowly raised himself up again, groaning as he felt the drag of Paul’s cock against his insides. The feeling being oddly different in this angle, more direct now he had more control. He pulled almost all the way, until only the head was still inside him, before slowly moving down again. He groaned and his eyes shot open as the head of Paul’s cock moved past that spot inside him. Oh fuck… that felt good. He did the same movement again, this time it becoming easier for him to move, although he knew he was going to be sore as hell in the morning. Sitting back down was easier, and slowly, John started to build up a rhythm as he learned how to move his hips so his thighs weren’t doing all the work.

Paul hardly said anything as he watched John, his eyes screwed shut as he moved up and down his cock, searching for his own pleasure. And good, he looked wonderful. His cock heavy and hard, bobbing up and down in time with John’s moves as he sped up, his eyes half-lidded, his lips slightly parted and his jaw slack as he moaned his name with almost every move. And god, he felt amazing too. It was so good. John was so perfect. Just perfect and fuck! Paul gasped as John sped up his movements, lifting himself off his cock and sitting back down quickly, impaling himself on his dick, his hair bobbing up and down in with him.

He reached out for him, needing to let him know how perfect he was. He let his hand slide up John’s belly, over his chest, rubbing his nipples, which he now knew John liked, until his fingers wrapped around his throat, making John open his eyes and look down at him, his movements slowing.

“You-” Paul started, already out of breath, “are so beautiful.” John flushed a bright red at that, but smiled too, flattered and slightly self-conscious, the last of which was almost a sin in Paul’s eyes. He sat up a bit, moving his hand up and cupping John’s cheek as he pulled him down and kissed him, licking into his mouth to taste him and swallow his moans as he thrusted up into him, short and shallow movements, yet languid and loving. The two men kisses slowly, as their movements slowed too, and together they fell into a rhythm. A rhythm that was slow and gentle, loving and yet passionate. It made John’s mind fuzzy and he gave himself completely to Paul as he let himself be guided by him, lead by him, and yet, leading at the same time, being in control, but not needing to be.

“I love you…” He breathed into Paul’s mouth, as Paul’s hand found his cock and started to jerk him off with their thrusts. Paul nodded and kissed him again, pulling his tongue into his mouth and moaning John’s name, feeling how the pressure low in his belly started to build up. Yet, he did not speed up. He did not want to, and neither did John. They simply moved together, giving and receiving at the same time, breathing in each other’s air and drifting along a stream that brought them further and further, until finally, Paul broke the kiss and bit down John’s shoulder as he came, spilling himself inside of John as he breathed his name, his fingers stroking him harder. With only a few more strokes, John came as well, clinging at Paul, wrapping his arms and legs around him and pulling him against him as he shuddered in his arms and rode out his pleasure.

            As the two men came down, the continued to sit like that for a little while longer, enjoying each other’s warmth and listening to each other’s heartbeat and shallow breathing. Finally, Paul was the only to look up, and their eyes locked, taking away their breaths and carefully, he moved them so they were lying down, Paul still inside John as he slowly softened. Eventually, he would need to pull out, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. With some effort he managed to pull the blankets back up, covering them both and he kissed John again.

Oddly enough, John felt the need to cry. He felt vulnerable and broken, but yet so whole. It was odd and he was glad to have Paul’s arm around him that little while longer.

“Can you stay?” He couldn’t help but ask, and he prepared himself for the shake of his head, but instead Paul nodded.

“Yes… I suppose I can. For a bit.” He said with a sigh, burring his nose in John’s hair and taking in a deep breath, smelling him.

“Paul?” John asked and Paul pulled away to look into his eyes again. “Did we just make love?” He asked and Paul felt his heart flutter at the question. But he supposed they had. At some point, there had been a shift and Paul wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but it had, and he was glad it did. He didn’t say anything anymore and simply kissed John deeply, which was answer enough.


	21. Chapter 21

John couldn’t stop blushing as he shimmied into his underwear. He should have thought it through a bit more before taking the bet, seeing as their gig didn’t start until seven and John couldn’t find the time to go home to change between school and the gig, as Stuart and the rest of the band had wanted to practise a bit more. But he had promised Paul he’d do it and Paul had already giving something back to him, so he couldn’t back out now. But damn, those panties were tight. It took him a while to figure out how he had pulled them on the last time, but eventually he managed and they didn’t feel half as uncomfortable as John had first thought. He could wear these the entire day. As long as he didn’t move too much so the material wouldn’t rub against him too much, because that felt way too good. After all, he couldn’t effort getting a hard on in them during school. But he would manage. Somehow.

Stepping in front of the mirror he admired himself briefly, making sure everything was in place and looking good, before quickly pulling on the rest of his clothes, feeling his cheeks burn up. He forced himself not to think about them too much and move as little as possible without looking like an idiot, as he quickly combed his hair and grabbed his bag. He had just enough time to force some food down his throat before having to hurry to the bus.

Julia, Paul and Jules were already having their breakfast by the time John stepped into the kitchen. As soon as he caught Paul’s eye, he shot him a cheeky little wink, and Paul choked on his cereal as his eyes grew wide and travelled down John’s body as the younger man went to get his own breakfast, his eyes landing on the boy’s bum. John smirked, already enjoying how easily he could play with Paul.

“Are you alright?” Julia asked as Paul continued to cough. She firmly hit him between the shoulder blades, trying to help, but Paul shook his head and waved her hand away.

“I-I’m fine,” he replied with a weak smile that was quickly wiped away as he needed to cough again, “wrong pipe hole.”

“Well, be careful, please. We don’t want you to kill yourself.” She told him, still looking worried, but Paul smiled again as he cleared his throat.

“I’m alright, now.” Paul croaked, only to start coughing again. Julia sighed and started hitting him between the shoulder blades again.

“John, get him a glass of water, would you?” She told John, who pretended to be annoyed by groaning.

“Why?! It’s not _my_ fault he can’t swallow properly.” He retorted, only causing Paul to cough more. He swiftly grabbed him a glass of water anyway, biting his tongue in order not to smile and give himself away.

“Thanks.” Paul said as he took the glass, not missing his change to give John a hard glare. John pretended he hadn’t seen as he went to get his breakfast and sat down at the table as well. Yes, this was going to be worth it.

            School proved to be more uncomfortable. It wasn’t even that the panties were uncomfortable. In fact, John had quickly gotten used to the tightness and the soft feeling, and was now actually liking them a lot. It was more the idea that he was wearing women’s underwear under his school uniform in public because of some kinky bet he did with his soon-to-be stepdad with whom he was having a sexual relationship. He tried not to think about it, but as soon as his mind started to wander off, he was instantly reminded of it, making him blush and squirm in his seat from both embarrassment and arousal. Worst were the strange look people gave him, looking at him as if they _knew_. They didn’t of course. How could they?

Going to the bathroom wasn’t that great either. It took him ages! He had never realised until today how hard girls had it when they needed to go. To get into those disgusting stalls and having to practically undress. And he wasn’t even wearing a skirt, which must be hell to hold onto if you set down. Or you had to leave it pooling on the floor, which was just disgusting! Not to mention actually having to sit down on that disgusting toilet seat and making sure no one would accidentally open the door and see you. At least he could stand. His nervousness for the gig didn’t help much, making him need the bathroom more often than normally. Also, he feared Stuart thought he was having issues with his bowel movement, as couldn’t just use the urinal like a normal person.

Yes, perhaps he should have thought this through a bit more. But it was going to be worth it. Or so he hoped. At least school was almost over.

            An unexpected tap against the side of his head, made John jerk in his seat, causing him to drop his pencil with which he had been doodling in his notebook in a faint attempt to keep his mind of Paul or his unusual choice of underwear. Another tap. He looked around in confusement, barely seeing anything without his glasses on, and heard someone groan before he noticed some white dot coming his way and hitting him square between the eyes.

“Hey!” John complained as he rubbed the place where the spit-ball had hit him, still looking around himself to see who was shooting at him.

“You’re fucking blind, Lennon! I’m right here!” Someone hissed and John turned his head in the direction, finally realising it was Stuart. Of course it was.

“Fuck you.” John retorted, picking one up and throwing it back, but instead hitting the girl beside his mate.

“Ouch!” She muttered, turning her head to glare at him, but John ignored her.

“You’re only proving me point, you idiot.” Stuart said, chuckling, and John flicked him the finger, before turning back to his doodling, hoping to teach him a lesson. Instead, he just felt another tap against the side of his head.

“What’s up with you, eh?” Stuart hissed at him, as John felt another tap, making it impossible for him to ignore his so-called “friend”.

“Well, someone’s hitting me with spit-balls, but don’t worry. He’ll be buried dead before he can even try to apologize.”

“Very funny, John. Seriously, though, you’re acting weird today. You’re not ill, are you?”

“I’m fine, Stu.”

“But-”

“I said, I’m fine.”

“Well… you’re still acting weird.”

“Just drop it, Stu.”

“So, there _is_  something! What is it then? Too much sex with a certain someone?”

“Hardly, seeing as _you_  told him I kissed you. Got us fighting, you know.”

“Good. Now, tell us, eh? What got your knickers in a twist?” Stu asked, liking his lips, eager to find out what was on his friend’s mind. John couldn’t help but blush at Stuart’s words and subconsciously crossed his legs under the table.

“No! Oh my fucking god, you’re not wearing…” Stuart exclaimed as soon as he noticed, the corners of his lips curling up in huge, radiating smile that John felt the urge to slap off that treacherous face of his. When John didn’t say anything in response, he almost let out a little yelp. “Oh wow. Can I see?”

“No!”

“Is it for Paul?”

“That’s… none of your fucking business.” John retorted, turning back to his doodling again, trying to keep his voice low and unaffected, hoping Stuart would shut up if he just refused to answer. Stuart, however, was far too excited about the news to the that easily deterred.

“So it is, right? Did he tell you to? You never struck me as the submissive type.”

“Would you shut up! And no, it was a bet. I lost a card game, so…” John replied, biting his lip to keep himself from grinning.

“So, you lost on purpose, then?”

“No!”

“Come on, John. You’re too good. There’s no way you lost to him.”

“Well, he’s better than you think. Now, will you shut up about it?!” John hissed back, and for a moment it certainly looked like Stuart would shut up. John could see him nodding from the corner of his eye and look back at his textbook. But before John had had the time to feel proud about his accomplishment to shut up Stuart, the lad up again.

“So, can I see?” He asked, and John groaned in annoyance as he turned back to Stuart.

“You’re kidding right?”

“No! I’m actually curious. Might make a good sketch.”

“No, you can’t see! Fucking hell, Stu.”

“Oh, please… I promise I won’t tell anyone it’s you.” Stuart pouted, giving John his best set of puppy eyes. John had just been about to tell Stuart to go fuck himself, when the teacher cut in before him.

“Mr Lennon, Mr Sutcliffe, please stop talking and go back to work. Unless there’s something you’d like to share?” The teacher told him, making John flush a bright red as he quickly turned back to his work. From the corner of his eye he saw Stuart doing the same. He glanced up at the teacher to see him nodding, before turning back to the newspaper he was reading while the students worked. For once John was actually relieved the teachers had stopped their conversation, seeing as Stuart wouldn’t have stopped bothering him until he would have agreed. What was Stuart even thinking?! Of course, he couldn’t see. This was only for Paul, after all. So what if he _might_ have lost on purpose…

            Still, John should have realised Stuart wasn’t going to leave it at that. Almost as soon as the class had ended, Stuart was standing next to him, grinning at him as John tried to ignore him as he put his stuff in his bag. He felt self-conscious doing it, feeling his eyes on his body and knowing that Stuart know what he was wearing beneath all his clothes.

“So, practise, right?” John asked, hoping to get Stuart to think about something else instead. The older man nodded, but the grin didn’t go away.

“You have your clothes with you, right?” He asked, and John nodded.

“Yeah. They’re in my locker. You know, they might actually like us in our school uniforms, too?” He offered, but Stuart shook his head.

“No, Lennon. You’re not getting out of changing. Besides, I still want to see.”

“I’m not getting changed in front of you.”

“Oh, look at you all modest.” Stuart teased with a laugh, but John merely punched him in the shoulder, before picking up his stuff and walking out of the classroom with Stuart, still excitedly giggling, following close behind. He quickly hurried down the stairs, his school back slung over his shoulder and wilfully ignoring his friend until they reached his locker. John opened it and grabbed out another bag with clothes, which he handed to Stuart as he got out his jacket at well.

“Oh! Is that new?” Stuart exclaimed in awe as John pulled on the leather jacket, smirking at the praise.

“You like it?” He asked and Stuart nodded as he put the bags down and reached out to touch.

“Like it? Damn, Lennon, how did you even get the money to buy this?” He asked, gently caressing the supple leather, looking extremely envious.

“I didn’t.” John answered truthfully, causing Stuart to look up at him with both shock and admiration.

“You _stole_  this?” He asked, making John laugh.

“No! It’s Paul’s. It’s a bit big for me, but it still looks great. I don’t think he’d mind.” He told him and Stuart chuckled as he pulled his hand back and picked up their bags again. John locked his locker and took his bag of Stuart.

“He doesn’t know, then?”

“Nah, I nicked it off the peg this morning. I thought it’d look nice for our gig. I kind of like it, though.”

“Won’t he get angry?”

“I fucking hope so.” John replied with a wink, making Stuart laugh again as they walked out of the building and to the bus stop to take the bus to Stuart’s place to meet up with practise. John didn’t miss the appreciative looks he got from the girls as he walked past them, boosting his self-confidence and making him giggle at the thought that he was still wearing something very feminine under it all, and no one knew.

            He was late. Of course, he was. At the last minute some stupid idiot had decided it would be a good idea to have a last-minute meeting. About what, Paul couldn’t even remember anymore. As soon as he had gotten home, he had sat down for dinner, quickly eating it all and telling Julia that he had wanted to see John perform and try to make up with him a bit more. Julia had been sceptical about the plan, but eventually agreed that it might be a good idea of Paul to let John know he was interested in his life and what he was doing. After all, music had been the thing they had bonded over last time, so it might work again.

Still, Julia didn’t understand why it was crucial he would be there as soon as possible. The gig would last at least two hours, so why would it matter so much that he was only there for the last 45 minutes or so? But she didn’t know John had been going through the trouble of wearing panties the entire day for Paul to see them wearing them in public and on stage! She didn’t know that John knew he was going to be there and was probably waiting for him, growing more and more insecure with each minute that he wasn’t there. So Paul said he wanted to be on time to let John know he really cared. Julia still hadn’t understood but had given up and simply watched Paul as he had quickly eaten the meal she had prepared.

He had kissed her goodbye and promised her he’d be back on time and let her know how he did, before he went to get his leather jacket. He frowned when he couldn’t find it hanging on a peg.

“Julia? Dear? Do you know where my leather jacket is?” Paul called at her as he went through all the coats to see if it really wasn’t there.

“It should be there, Paul. Maybe you left it at school?” She called back, but Paul was certain he hadn’t and his jacket just wasn’t there.

“No! It’s not here and I haven’t worn in to school at all since the last time I wore it. Are you sure you didn’t move it somewhere?” He asked just to be sure, not understanding how his jacket could just disappear.

“No, Paul. I’m really sure. Did you loan it out to someone? Maybe George?” Julia called back, sounding a bit annoyed. Not a second later, she appeared in the doorway, a towel in one hand and his plate in the other. Paul sighed, and grabbed another coat to wear. His standard woollen one. It was perhaps a bit hot, seeing as he was going to go by car, but it would do.

“Maybe. I don’t think so, but I don’t know where else it _could_  be.” He said as he pulled it on and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Julia walked over to him and plucked a few hairs off the coat and straightened it out a little.

“We’re having dinner with them soon. You can ask him then. You’ll find it again. It’s probably just lying around somewhere, anyway.” She said and Paul nodded.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted, reaching out for her and wrapping an arm around her middle, pulling her closer, “I’ll be back soon.” He leaned down and planted a sort kiss on her lips, making her giggle.

“You better. We still have to practise for our wedding night.” She muttered with a cheeky wink, making Paul laugh and kiss her again. He released her as he pulled away and reached into his pocket for his car keys, eyes growing wide as he didn’t feel them. Before he could even say anything, though, Julia pulled the keys from behind her back and handed them to him in exchange for one last kiss. Paul was only happy to oblige.

            John kept his eyes close on the door as he played the fourth song of the evening. Where was Paul?! He hadn’t seen him yet, and he still hadn’t walked through the door. If he didn’t show up soon, he was going to miss the first half on the gig, meaning they couldn’t sneak off for a little something something during the break. Besides, he had just gone through an entire day in panties and Paul couldn’t even be bothered to show up on time. It was more than a little frustrating. It was… disappointing if he was honest.

Stuart hadn’t stopped pestering him, of course. Luckily he hadn’t let anything slip when the others were around, but he had been dead set on catching John with his trousers down, always spying on him and following him to the bathroom to the point where John had to hold the doorknob while peeing to make sure Stuart wouldn’t just sneak a little peak. Not that he had attempted to pull the door open while he was on the toilet, but John hadn’t felt save with was enough.

Changing had been especially awkward. He had tried to sneak off to the bathroom to change out of his school uniform and into something a bit more rock ‘n roll, but of course Stuart had caught him and asked where he was going. When John had answered he was going to change, Stuart had told him he could just change in the living room. They were all guys after all. John had been about to say something witty about the fact that he was gay, so that didn’t really hold up, when the other guys had nodded and started to change right there. Of course, he had still changed into the bathroom, but he had been teased with it. That is, until he had threatened to give them all a black eye.

At the moment, though, Stuart was looking a little disappointed with the fact that he still hadn’t seen John’s underwear, which pleased John. But it would be easier to feel pleased if Paul had been in the audience. Which he still wasn’t. Not even when they started on their fifth song. Where was he?

            With trembling hands, Paul pushed the door to the club open. Right away he was greeted with the smell of ciggies, alcohol and too much mixed perfumes and aftershaves. But once he was over the initial shock, he started to get used to the smell. The music was booming loudly and Paul’s lips curled up as his eyes fell on the band on stage. They looked good. Energetic and excited, happy and lively. Big smiles on their faces as they played, jumping up and down with the music and getting the crowd dancing. The moment his eyes landed on the man at the front, however, he nearly lost his footing. He held onto the bar to steady himself as he grinned. So there was his jacket.

It suited John. It was slightly too big for him, but it still fitted him well, and it made him look even tougher and rougher than normally. He looked right sexy. Then again, he might be a bit biased, but who cared. John was wearing his jacket. Paul’s breathing sped up at the realisation and his blood travelled down, lower and lower until he felt a familiar twitch in his pants. Right away, Paul turned around and ordered himself a drink, knowing he was going to need it.

John had seemed to have noticed him, as well, for when Paul turned back around with a glass of whiskey in his hand, their eyes locked immediately over the crowd of people. Paul raised his glass to him and John winked in return, as he continued to practically scream into the microphone, roughing up his voice. God, he was going to sound amazing by the end of the night. Then again, he always sounded amazing.

Paul simply enjoyed the music as he watched John move around on stage and drank his drink. He had almost forgotten about the panties due to the leather jacket he was wearing, when John turned sideways to announce that Stuart was going to sing a song. It was hardly anything and it would have gone unnoticed if Paul hadn’t realised right away what it was. Just a bit above the waste band of his trousers, Paul spotted a little bit of lacy, dark blue material. Shit… His fingers tightened around the glass and he had to bit his tongue not to make any strange noises as he continued to stare at that little bit of material. Shit, John had really done it. He was wearing them. The lacy feminine panties under all those tough-looking clothes he was wearing over them. And all for him to. Just for him. Like a tiny little secret, shared between them and only them. Fuck… He needed to see more. Needed to feel.

            When John finally announced they would be having a small five-minute break, Paul jumped from his barstool and went to find somewhere else they could sit, knowing five minutes wasn’t going to be enough. Luckily, he found himself a small booth at the side of the club with just enough space for him and John to sit closely next to each other without it being too obvious. He slid in and waited patiently for John to get off stage, put away his stuff, get himself a drink as well and find him.

Finally, after what seemed like far too long, John walked over to him through the crowd of people and sat down next to Paul at the booth, sitting so close their thighs were touching.

“I see you’ve finally managed to show up.” John muttered as he took a swig of his beer, glancing at Paul from the corner of his eye. As he lowered to bottle, Paul could see he was smiling at him.

“I had a meeting. It was planned about fifteen minutes before I was about to leave. Oh, and nice jacket by the way.” Paul replied with a wink.

“Isn’t it, just? But maybe I should punish you, then. If that will make you turn up on time next time around.”  

“As nice as that sounds, I had something else in mind at the moment.” Paul replied dryly, watching John as he gently laid his hand on the younger man’s thigh, sliding it between his legs with a squeeze.

“Oh, and what’s that?” John asked casually, as if Paul wasn’t feeling him up in public under a table. He turned his head to look at him, their eyes locking again, making both men unable to look away. Paul’s eyes narrowed and he nervously licked his lips before moving his head a little closer to John.

“You’re wearing them.” He whispered to him, not missing the way John swallowed before he nodded. Slowly, Paul let his hand move up a bit, letting his fingers brush against John’s crotch. “Can I feel?” Paul asked, dropping his voice an octave and John nodded again as he parted his legs a little. He glanced swiftly around the room as he let Paul move his hand up higher, cupping him fully, before reaching for his zipper. Paul let out a shaky breath as he moved it down, creating enough space for him to slide his hand inside. A light yelp escaped John’s lips as he did just that and felt that lace surrounding John’s already half-hard cock. He let out a shuddering breath, his own cock twitching in interest at the touch alone.

“So, how are you enjoying the gig?” John asked as Paul let his hand slide even further, cupping him fully and giving him a squeeze. Paul almost didn’t hear him.

“Oh, great.” He replied, his voice more strained that he would have liked.

“Stuart knows, by the way. About this.” John admitted, nodding at where Paul’s hand was now fully working his cock through the material. A light blush started to form on his cheeks as he lightly thrusted up into Paul’s hand, enjoying what he was doing.

“He saw you?” Paul asked, swallowing down his jealousy.

“No,” John answered and Paul refrained from sighing in relief, “I just wanted to let you know. He figured it out on his own. Of course I didn’t show him. This… _this_  is for you.”

“I would kiss you right now, if I could.” Paul whispered back and John had to laugh at that.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and that’s fine to.” He told him and Paul nodded, tightening his grip.

“We don’t have enough time.”

“Are you going to make me come?”

“No…” Paul answered truthfully, getting John to look up at him in shock and fright, “I don’t want to make a mess and have someone know. You’ll have to wait to after.” Paul told him and John groaned in annoyance, letting his eyes fall close as he fell back into his seat.

“You’re a cruel man, McCartney.” He muttered and Paul smiled at him as he gave him another squeeze, getting John to moan, despite himself.

All too soon, the announcement came that the band would start to play again in a moment, and John and Paul had to stop. Paul rubbed him one last time, enjoying the feeling of the material stretched over John’s heated and erect cock, before he pulled his hand out and zipped John back up. The younger man groaned in annoyance and took a couple of deep breaths before moving to stand up. Before he could, however, Paul grabbed his wrist, making him look at him.

“I promise to make you cum twice before the night is over.” He whispered to him and John nodded with a little smile, before getting up and walking away. Paul sighed and fell back into his seat as he grabbed his drink and finished it in one go, ignoring his own problem that was pressing against the zipper of his trousers.

            The second half of the gig was almost complete hell for John. His erection just wouldn’t go down, so he had to awkwardly position his guitar in front of his crotch as he played and not turn around too move. The first two songs, his voice had been weak and wavering, especially whenever he looked back at the booth were Paul was still sitting, drinking his drink and staring at him with a clear hunger reflected in his eyes. Still, he managed and finally, as he played the last two songs, his boner went away, leaving him frustrated by less embarrassed.

When the gig was over and they had finished their last song, they quickly got off stage, grinning like idiots as the applause of the crowds followed them. They talked a bit about how everything went, but pretty soon, people were either disappearing into the club itself or the bathrooms, so John figured it would be time to go. He said goodbye to Stuart and walked to the club, where he found Paul already waiting for him, holding his coat.

“Ready, John?” He asked with a smile and John nodded, blushing already as he tried to imagine what they would be doing when they got home. Paul lead him out of the club, his hand lightly pressing against John’s lower back to guide him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see shit without his glasses. Normally, John didn’t like it when people did that, but if it meant that he’d have Paul’s hands on him, he wasn’t about to complain.

Outside it was cold, but at least it was dry. The sky was completely clear, giving them a clear view of the stars and the crescent moon as they walked to Paul’s car. John stared at them, watching them and trying to see patterns as he enjoyed the feeling of Paul’s warm hand on his lower back still. Suddenly, though, there was only one thing he could think about, and it wasn’t Paul’s warm hand or the sex he was about to have or even the stars. He looked down with a sigh, his feet slowing their steps as he sighed sadly.

“What is it?” Paul asked, having noticed something was wrong. John shrugged, not feeling like talking about it. Finally, however, he did.

“Are you being stupid?” He asked, and he could see Paul frowning in confusion. “I mean, with us? We already know it’s not going to work, don’t we? So… are we stupid for putting off the inevitable.”

“John…” Paul spoke with a deep sigh, his fingers twitching where they pressed John forward, “This thing was your idea. We might as well pull through with it, right? Enjoy it while it last and all that. Remember?”

“Yes, I know, but we can’t simply ignore the facts, can we?” John asked, looking up at Paul, who kept staring straight before him, jaw tightening.

“So what then? You want to stop?” He asked, sounding a bit annoyed. John shook his head.

“No… I-I don’t know… I just think that maybe we should have a plan or something? Or at least a date by which he must decide.”

“Is that what you want?” Paul asked and John nodded.

“I think so. I don’t know what I want, but…”

“You might be right.” Paul interrupted him and John looked up in shock.

“What?” He asked, not really understanding.

“About the date. It might help. A date. We’ll continue until then and at that time, if we haven’t found a way, we will stop.” Paul said, nodding. Yet, he didn’t sound completely happy with the idea. John couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like he wanted something like a deadline, either. But… it would perhaps give them a bit more peace of mind. Or he hoped it would. “What do you suggest?” Paul asked and John thought for a while.

“When is the… er… wedding?” He asked softly, but Paul shrugged.

“We don’t know yet. We haven’t talked about it yet. Probably in autumn.” He answered.

“Okay. So, what if you tell me when you know when the wedding will be and we’ll pick a date a few weeks before that. So we can get used to it. Agreed?”

“Fine. Paul replied with a sigh, his hand pulling John a bit closer to him. John went with him easily, regretting having brought it up, as the mood had seemed to be ruined now. Still, he moved closer to Paul, gently nudging him with his shoulder.

"I don’t want this, you know.” He told him and Paul nodded.

“I know. I just wish we didn’t have to talk about this and could just enjoy ourselves while it lasts. I don’t want to talk about the wedding either.” He explained.

“That’s why I want a deadline. So we don’t have to.” John muttered, “I want to enjoy you while I can.” He nudged Paul again, getting him to smile again, his eyes softening as he looked at him and nudged him back.

“Let’s talk about something else now, yeah?” He asked and John chuckled before nodding.

“Yeah… Or we could just not talk at all.” He replied suggestively with a wiggle of his eyebrow and Paul laughed even more, his grip on him tightening.

“Kiss me?” John asked, but Paul shook his head.

“At home.” He promised as the car came into sight, but John didn’t listen and looked around to see if anyone would see, before leaning up on his toes and pressing a quick peck to Paul’s scruffy chin.

* * *

 

The ride home was mainly silent. John stared out of the window, watching the streets and houses pass by as he listened to the radio, which Paul had put on. He felt surprisingly tired, considering it was just a bit past nine in the evening, but then again, he had been quite busy today. And right now was the first time John could relax since he had gotten up that morning. Slowly, John felt the tension sliding from his body. His eyelids felt heavy and his mind woozy, and the only thing that kept him grounded was Paul’s warm hand on his inner thigh. His thumb was lightly stroking him there through his jeans, heightening John’s senses in a promise of what was yet to come. Just that promise alone would keep John up all night if he had to.

“Your mum and I are having dinner at George’s this Sunday.” Paul spoke out of no where, interrupting the good rock ‘n roll on the radio. John turned his head in surprise. “You remember George, don’t you?”

“Of course.” John muttered, unsure what to do with the information.

“I’m going to ask him to be my best man.” Paul continued, his voice flat, eyes focused solely on the road. John frowned and laid his hand on top of Paul’s, feeling how his fingers twitched against his thigh at the touch.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about the wedding?” He asked and Paul sighed, briefly closing his eyes.

“I don’t, but- It’s hard not to think about sometimes, you know.”

“I could help you with that little problem, if you’d want me to.” John said, leaning closer to the older man and reaching over to lay his hand on Paul’s leg, mirroring Paul’s own, and giving him a comforting yet suggestive squeeze. Paul glanced briefly over at him. The corner of his mouth twitched up, before he turned back to the wheel. It was enough encouragement for John, who slowly let his hand move up higher and higher, teasing his way up Paul’s leg until he slid his hand between his thighs and cupped the man’s crotch in his hand. Paul let out a breathy curse, before he chuckled.

“What?” John asked, but Paul only shook his head.

“Nothing. Just… I should have known I wasn’t going to be able to drive us home before things would head into this direction.” He said, but John didn’t chuckle along. Instead he only continued his ministrations, pulling at Paul’s cock through his clothes, working him quickly into hardness with skilled finger work, knowing exactly how to work Paul into a frenzy after so many times. There was a certain ease about it. It had become something so familiar to him that it was almost effortless and relaxing. A way to let go and forget about things for a while. He could only hope the same counted for Paul. Judging by the way he seemed to melt into his touch, it was.

“Don’t look that smug, John. I could control myself around you if I had reason to. I’m _letting_ you arouse me.”

“Bet you you couldn’t?” John suggested with a quick wink, but Paul only laughed and shook his head.

“Another time, perhaps. One bet is enough for one evening. Besides, I had something very different in mind.”

“Oh really? And what might that be, eh?” John asked as he gave Paul another firm squeeze, earning himself a short gasp. He watched Paul’s fingers tighten around the wheel and his own thigh. His cock responded as eagerly as Paul’s. The older man didn’t answer his question, however. He only moved his hand up higher as well, but bypassed John’s cock, to the younger man’s surprise. Instead, he let his fingers roam over John’s body as he worked his way up until he reached his hair and tangled his fingers into John’s greasy locks of hair, messing it up as he gently yet forcefully pushed John’s head down. Right away, John knew what Paul had in mind, and he was only happy to oblige him.

He kept his eyes on the older man as he lowered his head, just in case he would turn his head to look at him. They were practically in public. What if anyone would pull them over? The thought only excited John more, and he shifted in his seat to make himself more comfortable as he planted a kiss on Paul’s hardening cock through the material of his slacks. Paul’s fingers tightening in his hair at the feeling, pulling ever so lightly as Paul’s eyes fluttered close for a brief moment. The car swayed slightly to the right.

“Eyes on the road, luv,” John warned him, keeping his mouth against the other man’s crotch, “We don’t want another accident, do we?” Paul nodded and fixed his eyes on the road as he pulled encouragingly at John’s hair. John couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement, before focussing on the job at hand. Or mouth, rather. He moved his hands to Paul’s jeans as he continued to kiss him and rub his nose along the side of Paul’s covered cock. Carefully, he undid Paul’s belt and unbuttoned Paul’s trousers, before slipping  a hand inside. Paul hissed as his cold fingers brushed against the base of his cock, sending shivers down his spine. John squeezed his thigh as a light warning, and loosely wrapped his hand around Paul’s cock, pulling him out, only to quickly envelop it with his mouth.

He wrapped his lips tightly around the head and started sucking him in, making sure to make as much noise as possible, so Paul wouldn’t be able to ignore him. Bit by bit, Paul’s cock slid deeper into his mouth, past his teeth and over his tongue, until it reached the back of his throat. He went on to take him in even further, closing his eyes in concentration. He fought the urge to gag as he felt Paul’s cock filling up his mouth, and sliding into his throat, nudging at his gag reflex. Yet, he didn’t stop there and only moved further down, wanting more of Paul inside him, wanting to taste him all the way back in his throat.

“Oh shit… John.” Paul groaned, his fingers tightening again, only encouraging John to go further, to take more, to push himself. He knew he could do it. He had done it before. He just needed to find the right angle. The fact that they were driving didn’t make it much easier. He had to fight hard not to gag whenever they accidentally drove over a bump in the road, making  John bob on Paul’s cock, forcing him to take more than he was ready too. Thankfully, Paul’s hand was almost constantly on the back of his head to support him. It only disappeared briefly every so often when Paul needed to shift gears, but most of the time it was there, pushing and stroking encouragingly, keeping him in place.

Closing his eyes, John took a deep breath through his nostrils as he slid down the last inch, fighting the urge to smile around Paul’s cock as he buried his nose in Paul’s pubic hair, taking in his musky smell. His throat worked hard to accommodate Paul’s cock as it moved ever so lightly in John’s throat with the rhythm of the car. God. He swallowed around him, tasting the salty taste on his tongue and Paul groaned and thrusted up slightly, almost choking him. Yet, John didn’t say anything. He merely started to suck Paul as well as he could as he held him in his throat, trying to move his tongue along the underside of Paul’s shaft as he hollowed out his cheeks. He sucked with vigour, wanting nothing more than to please Paul. He even ignored his own pulsing cock that felt painfully restricted by the panties he was wearing.

Finally, John let go of Paul. He retreated his mouth, dragging his lips back up until Paul’s cock slid from his mouth with a wet plop. Quickly, he wrapped his hand back around it and started to wank Paul as he looked up at him, blinking away the few tears in his eyes. Paul looked down at the lack of mouth around his cock and was just about to say something, before John cut in before he even had the change to speak his first syllable.

“I think you’d better find a place to park, Macca.” He said with a wink and savoured the confused look on Paul’s face, before going back down on Paul, taking his cock back in his mouth. But rather than letting him in his throat again, John merely started bobbing up and down, getting Paul to gasp and groan in his seat as he tried his best to drive. When John could see Paul nodding in the corner of his eyes, he grinned around the cock in his mouth and lightly nibbles at Paul’s foreskin. His own cock twitched eagerly at the curses that flew from Paul’s mouth as he desperately started to search for a nice private place to park, knowing it wouldn’t be smart to come in John’s mouth while he was still driving. There was a good change they wouldn’t survive that and he’d rather save the police the embarrassment of finding two dead people in a dark, one person’s mouth still around the other’s cock.

            Luckily for the both of them, he quickly found such a spot- just a bit off route, in a dark and deserted spot. There was not a person in sight, so Paul figured they would be alright. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from coming in John’s mouth as he parked the car. As soon as he had both hands free, he tangled his fingers into John’s hair again and pulled him back up with slight reluctance. The sight with which he was met, however, made everything right again. John eyes were still slightly watery from the deepthroating, his cheeks were flushed, his hair messy, and his lips were puffy and red, simply begging him to kiss them. So he did. He pulled John closer to him by his hair and pressed his lips against John’s, massaging them and nipping at them, begging John for entrance with a soft groan. John’s hands came up to grab him by his shoulder, pulling him closer as he responded eagerly to the kiss, parting his lips almost as soon as Paul asked. He let out a needy little moan and cocked his head to the side as he pulled Paul even closer, needing him, wanting him.

John’s enthusiasm only spurred Paul on even more, and he knew he couldn’t wait until they were home to have the younger man. He pulled away to gasp from breath, and nodded with his head in the direction of the back seat as he caught his breath. John got what he wanted right away and gave Paul a curt nod before he slid onto the back seat, sitting down with his legs parted wide as he held eye contact with Paul, wordlessly begging him closer. Paul could have come on the spot. Fuck, John was far too enticing for his own good. He couldn’t wait to have him. Especially because… His mouth went dry as he watched John’s hands move down to his crotch, where he undid his trousers to reveal those panties again. Paul’s jaw dropped at the sight. He swiftly undid his seatbelt and took off his tie and coat before following John, crawling between his legs.

For a moment he wasn’t sure what to do. How far could they go? Considering they were in a car and all and someone could look in through the windows and see at any time. John didn’t seem too worried about getting caught. He was stroking himself through the panties as he kept his eyes fixed on Paul’s, reminding Paul of that Monday when he had made John wank off for him. This time, however, he was determined to join in. He reached behind himself, searching for the handle that would push the front seats forward, leaving them with a little bit more room. It took him longer than he would have liked, seeing as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from those sinful panties, but eventually he managed and right away he moved over to John, covering his body with his own and capturing his mouth for another deep and desperate kiss.

Quickly, he moved his hand down as well, taking over from John and sighing into John’s mouth as he felt the material of the panties against the palm of his hand. John gasped as Paul grasped him through the panties and started to rub him there. He wrapped his arms around Paul’s neck and pulled him even more on top of him as he dug his nails into Paul’s back. Or his sweater, rather.

Annoyed with the lack of skin, John let out a growl and moved his hands down as well, reaching for the hem of Paul’s shirt and sweater. As soon as he started pulling at it, Paul got the hint and pulled away to take it off, leaving John to rock up into thin air, chasing the loss of friction. He sighed when Paul’s hand returned there. He leaned up and pouted up at Paul, asking for another kiss without having to speak. Paul’s other hand moved down to caress John through his black t-shirt, and moved even further down until it met his other. He roughly pulled John’s trousers down, before doing the same with him.

“Part them.” He breathed into John’s ear, licking into the shell, and John nodded as he spread his legs wider, giving Paul the room he needed to line up their cock. He dropped his underwear as well John gasped as he felt the warm flesh of Paul’s cock through the panties against his own.

“Fuck…” He groaned, his head rolling in his neck as he arched his back at the pleasurable feeling. He could feel Paul’s eyes on him, digging into him as his warm breath ghosted over the bare skin of his face and neck. Both men gasped as Paul rutted forward, rubbing their cock together with only the thin material of the panties separating them.

The feeling have heavenly. Feeling John hard and warm through the lace was so odd, but yet so good. Paul found it difficult to hold a thought as he repeated the movement, groaning at the little gasps that slipped from John’s mouth. When he did it again, John’s legs came up to wrap around his waist, giving him a little bit more leverage to work.

Slowly, Paul build up a tempo as he buried his face in John’s neck, kissing and licking the skin as he drank in all the little noises the younger made as they rutted together, their cock leaking and twitching against each other. Fuck, Paul found it difficult not to just give in and rub again John with all his will until they came, but he had something else in mind, not having forgotten the little conversation of hat same morning. He rutted against John a couple of more times, getting John worked up until he started blabbering non-sense. Then, he pulled away and slid down John’s body until he was kneeling between his legs. His own cock was thumping painfully, but Paul did his best to ignore it.

John looked down in surprise as soon as he noticed Paul had moved away. His eyes grew dark as he saw where Paul was sitting and he let himself fall back again as he let out a needy yawn.

“Oh, Please… Paulie…” He practically begged, raising up his hips as an invitation. Yet, he seemed almost shocked when Paul closed his mouth around the head of his cock through his panties. He gasped and jolted against Paul, his hands shooting down to take a hold of Paul’s hair, forcing him to continue.

“Oh yes… please. Oh, please. Suck me. Make me come. I’m so far done, Paul. Make me come, please.” John begged and Paul didn’t need to be hold twice. He closed his eyes and started licking and sucking at John through the panties as he hands moved to pull the panties down, revealing more and more bare skin.

“That good?” Paul asked, surprised by how wrecked his own voice sounded, but he didn’t care anymore as soon as he met John’s eyes. He nodded and winked at the younger man before slipping John’s cock in his mouth. He started sucking right away, knowing they shouldn’t risk getting caught just for the sakes of making this last. Besides, he wasn’t in the most comfortable position, considering he was pretty much squeezed between the passenger’s seat and the back seat, his body having to bend rather uncomfortably.

He made sure to hold John’s gaze as he sucked him off, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing up and down in a smooth, yet rapid rhythm that was slowly driving John insane. All too soon, Paul felt John’s thighs tighten around his head, holding him in place as he took him deep into his mouth.

“Shit… Paul. I’m gonna- Oh shit! I’m gonna cum!” John said and Paul nodded as he started sucking more forcefully. John’s fingers were pulling at his hair, telling him he should pull off unless.

“Oh fuck!” John groaned as he threw his head back. His entire body spasmed on the back seat and around Paul’s face as he came, spilling himself in his lover’s mouth, who sucked and drank it all the best he could, not wanting to waste a drop. John came spurt after spurt, his cock throbbing in Paul’s throat, making Paul almost come himself, but he managed to hold off. He kept his lips firmly wrapped around the head of John’s cock as John continued to come, letting him ride it out, until his body finally went slack around him, allowing him finally to pull off.

Paul wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he caught his breath and smirked up at John, who lay sprawled and panting across the back seat, his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat. The only sign of life was the rapid moving of his chest with his breathing. When he finally got back to the world, he started giggling as he looked down at Paul, his eyes twinkling with love and adoration. Slowly, Paul crawled back up John’s body, kissing him briefly, before looking down at him, staring him in the eye.

“What did you say again about me not knowing how to swallow properly?” He asked as a joke, grinning as gently moved John’s hair out of his face, his voice utterly wrecked. John looked up at him with a dazed smile, his mind still fuzzy from the intensity of his orgasm, and rolled his eyes at him.

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.” He said, sounding as bad as Paul, and Paul laughed before being silenced by John’s mouth on his again. John’s tongue licked languidly along his bottom lip, and Paul groaned at the idea of him being able to taste himself. The thought made Paul’s already hard cock twitch desperately in the confinement of his slacks. With one last nip at John’s bottom lip, he broke the kiss.

“Now, I told you I was going to make you come twice, and so I will.” He said and John frowned as his post-orgasmic brain tried to work out what that meant. When Paul thrusted his hips down against John, he gasped, but a smile appeared nonetheless.

“Alright. Let’s see if you have it in you.” John replied, and Paul grinned at him as he pulled John’s legs up around his waist and started rubbing his cock against John’s, enjoying the friction of the panties, but the friction of John’s naked cock even more.

“Fuck, Paul… come on. Get me hard, old man.” John croaked out as he let his head rest against Paul’s shoulder as he tried his best to move with him. Paul couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Who are you calling here an old man, John? I’ll show you just how _old_ I actually am.” He responded and John chuckled as well, but soon it died off into a groan as Paul picked up the pace, rutting against John and feeling how his orgasm started to build up again. Thankfully, he felt the same happening to John. His over-sensitive cock twitched back to life and hardened quickly as Paul leaned down to suckle on John’s ear as he rubbed their erections together.

“Come on, Paul. You can do it, luv. Just a bit more. Oh fuck…” John muttered and Paul nodded, pulling lightly at John’s earlobe as he sped up his thrusts even more, the way slicked by his own saliva that was still on John’s cock. John tried his best to move with him, thrusting up against him as he panted encouragements and pretty soon, both were on the verge of coming, John for his second time.

“I-I can’t hold back much long, John. Fuck… you feel so good. My sweet boy.”

“I’m here, Paul. I’m here… Just… fuck… please, make me come. I need to come.” John begged, his voice barely more than a whisper now, and Paul nodded, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm approached.

“Just let go, luv. You can let go. Come for me. Please, Johnny.” Paul gasped and John nodded as he closed his eyes and moved erratically with Paul, fucking back against him as he felt his second orgasm take over his body. And then, finally, after a few second more, John groaned and shuddered as he came for the second time that evening, panting Paul’s name as he did so, feeling the world slowly slip away at the intensity. Paul fucked him through it, biting down the boy’s neck to hold himself off that little bit longer, until he couldn’t anymore and came too. He let out a weak cry that somewhat sounded like John’s name as he came, shooting cum between them that mixed with John’s, messing up their clothes and the panties. Paul shuddered as he came, his eyes fluttering closer as he panted John’s name as a mantra as he slowly rode it out, feeling wave after wave flow through his body.

“Shit…” He muttered, and John could only nod once before the world fell away completely.

            John twitched as he felt something on his face, gently touching. Or caressing. Slowly, he opened his eyes, curious to see what was going on. It took his eyes a while to focus. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his surroundings were too dark for him to search for them. But he felt someone lying on top of him, his legs on either side of the other body. He turned his head to see who it was and spotted a man looking down at him as he played with his hair.

“Hello again.” the person said and the voice sounded faintly familiar. It took him another three seconds to realise it was Paul. As soon as his eyes focussed as he saw Paul looking down at him with a love sick smile on his face, he smiled back.

“Hello to you, too.” He replied and Paul leaned down to kiss him. Naturally, John let him.

“I told you I was going to make you come twice before the night’s out?” Paul muttered against his lips. John frowned and thought for a while as his brain worked hard to figure out what he had been up to. Once he realised, he smiled even broader and nodded as he reached up to tangle his hands into Paul’s hair, mainly out of habit. The older man smiled back, before burying his face into the crook of John’s neck, grinning smugly.

“So you did.” He answered, as he ran his fingers through Paul’s hair, enjoying their post-coital closeness, which they didn’t get to have too often, “How long was I out?”

“Not long. Just a few seconds. I can’t blame you. You came pretty soon after your first time.” Paul told him and John nodded.

“Right…” He said, yet it didn’t sound as happy as he would have liked. Paul frowned at the lack of enthusiasm in his tone, but didn’t say anything off it. He merely sighed and laid down with his head on John’s chest. John sighed and tried to enjoy it some more, but pretty soon he realised where they were.

“Shouldn’t we go, soon?” He asked, but Paul didn’t answer, “I mean… What if Julia gets angry?” He asked and Paul sighed before he nodded once.

“Yeah… I suppose.” He muttered as he sat back up. John grabbed him by his wrist before he could move away, however, making Paul look at him.

“I love you.” He said and Paul nodded before kissing him.

“Let’s go.” He said and John nodded as he let Paul pull him back into the passenger’s seat. Paul took a seat behind the wheel again and quickly pulled his clothes back on, reminding John to fix himself as well. He frowned as he found it had already been done. Paul didn’t say anything of it, but merely started driving the last few minutes to their home as he hummed along to the music on the radio. Julia was going to be pissed at them for staying away for so long, but it had most definitely been worth it.


	22. Chapter 22

Paul had him firmly pressed again the bathroom door, his hands gripping at his bare skin under his shirt, clawing at him, his nails digging into his skin, and John loved it. He loved the raw want and lust behind it and the possessive growls that fell from his lips as he kissed him, sucking eagerly at his tongue as his beard scraped deliciously against his smooth chin, and turning John slowly but surely into a moaning mess. He kissed back hungrily- or tried at least to his best abilities, as Paul’s mouth was too demanding, too controlling and too fervent, not giving John enough time or space to reciprocate, leaving him only to surrender to the older man and let him devour him whole. Not that he really minded.

One of his hands made its way up Paul’s chest and neck before disappearing into the greying locks of hair, pushing it backwards as he groaned and cocked his head slightly to the side to give Paul more room, enjoying to soft feel of his hair sliding between his fingers, over his palm. Paul groaned as John tugged and pressed his body harder against John’s as his hand tightened on John’s waist, pressing him even harder against the door, sounding positively frustrated. John loved the power he had over Paul, even when they were like this. It was empowering, keeping him grounded and more willing to give himself so completely to the other man, since he wasn’t really the submissive type at all. His other arm snaked along Paul’s side, his fingers tickling their way to the small of Paul’s back before going ever further, over the curve of Paul’s arse, where he squeezed him. He was rewarded with a wanton growl from deep within Paul’s throat, which John was almost certain the hadn’t meant to let escape. Proud of himself, he squeezed again as he rocked his hips up into Paul’s.

The hot mouth left his own for a moment and John had been about to complain, when it instead found his jaw, suckling at his skin as he kissed his way further up, to the little spot right behind John’s ear. He let out a breathy moan as Paul bit him there, only gently, and let his head fall back against the door with a thud as his eyes rolled back, his hips buckling up again, his hard cock eager to find friction. God, he needed more… so much more. He opened his mouth to speak- to beg if he had to- but before he had even managed to utter one syllable, a shout interrupted them.

“Paul! Are you ready? I don’t want to be late.” Julia shouted from the hallway, her voice uncomfortably loud to John’s heightened senses. Paul’s lips dropped from his skin with a low growl, and John, fearing the worst, gripped Paul even tighter, wrapping one of his legs around Paul’s body, refusing to let him go, needing him; his mouth, his hands, his cock, anything…  

“I’m coming! Just give me a second!” Paul shouted back, and John felt like he could cry. He didn’t, of course, but he didn’t give up either and instead thrusted his hips into Paul’s again, urging him on. Paul, however, grabbed his hips with both hands and forced him back against the wall, trapping him, as he pulled away. John let out a disgruntled huff.

“Come on, Paul. We’re only going to George and Pattie’s, not some five-star restaurant. Hurry up, yeah? You look fine! You always do.”  Julia said, and John couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the urgent feeling in his crotch, his hands falling on Paul’s shoulders as he looked up at him through his lashes, catching Paul’s eyes.

“Yes, you look perfect like this.” He said, voice utterly wrecked, and Paul rolled his eyes, but his lips curled up in a smile anyway, before he leaned in and kissed him, hungrily licking into his mouth.

“Paul!” Julia shouted again as if on cue, and John snickered as Paul groaned and pulled away again.

“Yes! I’m coming. I’m coming.” He shouted back in annoyance, as he stepped away from John and went back to the mirror above the sink to make himself look presentable. John watched him in silence, lightly pressing down his trapped cock with the heel of his hand, needing that friction to keep himself from rutting against Paul like an animal in heat.

“Promise we’ll finish this later?” John asked, smirking when he saw Paul nod in reply as he tried to fix hair, which John had worked so hard on to mess up. He pushed himself off the door and went over to Paul to kiss his cheek, before hurrying out of the bathroom. He couldn’t let his mother catch them after all. He stumbled to his room, shut the door, and cupped himself in his hand again, letting out a needy groan. God, he wished Paul could do it for him.

            He waited until he had seen Paul and Julia drive off through his bedroom window, before going downstairs to find his sister. He had promised his mother he would look after Jules while they were having dinner with Paul’s friend George and his wife, but she was already eleven, so really, he didn’t _need_  to look after her, did he? As long as he was back before his mother and Paul were, there wouldn’t be any trouble. Besides, he really wanted to see this new Elvis movie.  

He found her, like he had expected, in the kitchen, standing on a chair and trying to reach the top shelf where the biscuits and chocolate were kept. John smiled at the sight and leaned against the door frame as he folded his hands before his chest and watched her struggle some more. She wasn’t tall enough, but occasionally his fingers would just graze the tin, causing it to slide further away from her, making her huff and groan in annoyance, as she moved to stand on tiptoes.

“Need any help with that?” John said with an amused smirk, even as she gasped in shock and nearly lost her balance, grabbing a lower shelf to keep herself steady. She glared at him as she turned her head.

“I nearly fell!” She said, only to be met with a shrug.

“Good thing you didn’t, then. Now, get off that chair before you do or I’m telling Mum.”

“Come on! Don’t be like that and get the biscuits. We can share.” She tried, giving him a wicked grin, but John shook his head.

“My honesty is not for sale,” he said resolutely, “now, get off that chair.” But Jules didn’t get off the chair. She only looked him straight in the eye as her grin broadened.

“You sure? There’s chocolate in there, too, you know.”

“Oh, alright. Move aside, you’re too little.” John finally gave in, a matching grin appearing on his own face as he helped Jules off the chair and climbed onto it himself. He could grab the tin easily. Jules reached out for it with eager hands, but John knew better than to trust eleven year old girls and held tightly onto it as he climbed down.

“Now,” he said as he placed the tin on the breakfast table, far away from Jules, who had taken a seat, “I’ll give you a biscuit, but only if you promise you’re not going to tell Mum and Paul that I’ve left you alone this evening.” Jules looked up at that, a frown on her forehead, her hand stopping mid-air, as she had tried to reach for the tin and take it from her older brother. John opened the tin and took out a biscuit, holding it before her eyes. “What do you say?”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll only be gone for an hour or two, probably a little longer. Eric’s taking me to see the new Elvis movie. It starts at half past seven, so I should be back long before Mum and Paul come home.” He explained to her, wanting to sooth any worries she might have. She would be fine. He knew she would be. He’d been home alone for more than two hours when he was eleven, and she was much more responsible.  Still, Jules didn’t look completely convinced.

“Can’t I come with you? I’ll be good.” She asked, but John shook his head.

“Eric will be here for dinner and we’ll leave after. Don’t answer the door for stranger and don’t tell people you’re home alone and you’ll be fine, I promise you.”

“Okay… But if you’re late, I’m not covering for you.” She agreed, sticking her hand to except her biscuit. John thought about it briefly, before nodding and placing the biscuit in his sister’s hand.

“Deal.”

            Paul parked the car right in front of George’s house. It wasn’t anything special, just a simple working class terraced house, but to Paul it always brought a smile on his face, simply because it was George’s place, where he was always welcome. Like a gentleman, he helped Julia out of the car and wrapped his arm around her waist as she shut the car door behind herself.

“Very smooth, dear.” She said appreciatively as she ran her hand through his hair, flatting it some more. Paul smiled at her and he lead her to the front door, where he rang the bell. It wasn’t long before the door was opened and they were greeted by an excited looking George Harrison. Paul couldn’t help but laugh as he saw his friend had some flour in his hair. When he pointed it out, the younger man blushed slightly as quickly ruffled his hair to get it out.

“The missus’s making an apple pie.” He explained and stepped aside to let his guests in. There was still some flour left, but Paul didn’t dare the point it out, understanding all to well what his friend had been up to before they had rung the bell.

“We’re not early, are we?” Julia asked, biting her lip to keep herself from grinning at their host’s discomfort and clear embarrassment, not that either of them really cared. They understood all too well.

“No, no. You’re right on time. Let me take your coats. Pattie’s  in the kitchen. She’s been working hard, and it smells delicious.” George said, with a smile as he hurried them inside and closed the door behind them.

            True to his word, dinner smelled delicious, but it tasted even better. Pattie had truly outdone herself; mushroom soup with toast for starters, then a chicken casserole with vegetables and mashed potatoes and then, after Paul had already eaten more than he could, the promised apple pie. When she placed it, still hot from the oven, onto the table, he wished he had more willpower to say no.

“Really, Pattie. You shouldn’t have done of all this. It’s too much.” He said, but she wouldn’t hear any of it.

“Don’t be silly,” she said with a charming smile as she sat back down next to her husband and started to cut the pie, “an engagement ought to be celebrated, and really, it looks more impressive then it is. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Deciding it was better not to argue, Paul handed her Julia’s plate and then his own, licking his lips as he watched Pattie slide the piece onto his plate, steam coming off it and filling his nostrils with the most wonderful smell. He was already regretting this decision, as he knew he would finish it anyway and be left with a terrible stomach ache the following morning.

“So,” George said, kissing Pattie on her cheek as she handed him an extra big piece, “have you already thought about what you wanted to do with the wedding?”

“Oh, yes. We’d like to keep it simple. Do it at the register office with family and some friends, and a small party afterwards. Nothing too special, you know.” Julia answered, her hand coming to rest on Paul’s thigh, giving him a squeeze. Paul, who had just been about to take his first bite, glanced at her and winked as he pulled the fork from his mouth, clean and without any trace of apple pie. He practically moaned at the taste. God, it was delicious. “We’ll ask little Jules to keep the rings, won’t we, Paul?”

“Yes. She’ll love that.” Paul agreed as reaching for his glass of water, feeling how his throat constricted and got dry as he thought about the wedding. About John. Needing to disappoint him, and seeing him between all those other people, faking smiles and trying to make it seem like he was happy for them. He tried to push John out of his mind by taking another bite from his apple pie and focussing on the feeling of Julia’s fingers against his thigh, rubbing sweet circles there, as if she _knew_.

“Any idea for a date, yet?” Pattie asked. Julia sat up a bit more, swallowing her first bite before answering.

“Not yet, we’ve been thinking about early autumn.”

“Oh yes! That is perfect, with all the pretty colours, but it still being warm enough to have the party in the garden. I take it the party will be at home.”

“Yes, like I said, we want to keep it simple. This pie is delicious, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you. George’s mum was so kind to share her recipe with me. You know, if you want me too I could do your hair. And Paul’s if he wants me too.” Pattie suggested, and Paul could see Julia brighten up at that immediately, making him smile almost as broadly as she was, John finally having left his mind, albeit briefly. He shouldn’t be thinking about him. It wasn’t fair to Julia. Honestly, though, he wasn’t opposed to the idea himself. Pattie was a hairdresser and what she could do with hair was frankly more than a little impressive. Julia would look so beautiful with her hair tied up. Or straightened. Or curled more neatly. Or just like this, really. Whatever Pattie had in mind, she would look beautiful. And frankly, he was curious what she would do with his hair, too.

“Oh, would you? That would be wonderful.” Julia said and Paul nodded along with her.

“Of course! And don’t worry about payment. I’ll do it for free.” Pattie promised, and Paul and George shared a look as the girls started talking about dresses and suits and different hairstyles. Pattie even offered to do John’s and Jules’s as well, which Julia was more than happy to except.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to the wedding. Just listening to Julia and Pattie talk about all the plans they came up with made him smile like a fool, but it also came with a nauseousness as he thought about John. He tried not to think about him, but he still made his way back into his mind. Still, he tried to fight it and continued to eat his pie as he occasionally mingled into the conversation to let his own thoughts known. It was his wedding too, after all, so why should the girls have all the fun? He should at least try to enjoy it. He was getting married after all! This time he wouldn’t fuck it up like he had done with Jane. Or at least, he hoped he wouldn’t. It wasn’t looking good, though.

            After dessert, Paul reached into his pocket to get himself and George a ciggy as Julia helped Pattie clean away the dishes. They smoked as they helped by stacking plates and glasses, so they could be cleared off easier. When the women said they’d be doing the dishes and making them some coffee, George suggested they’d go to the living room and let the women to it. Paul nodded and gave Julia a peck on the lips, before getting up and following George to the living room.

The room wasn’t large, but it was tastefully decorated, making it cosy. There were two rather large, but extremely comfortable looking couches and an old armchair placed around the fireplace. George’s modest guitar collection decorated one wall, and there was a large bookshelf on the other wall, with a record player besides it. George put on a record as Paul took a seat on one of the couches and looked at the picture frames on the fireplace and the magazines on the glass coffee table. His heart was speeding up and his hands were getting sweaty as he realised this was his chance. He wasn’t certain why he was feeling so nervous. He had done it once before already. Why would George’s answer be any different this time.

“I’m glad you finally found someone, Paul.” George said as he sat down next to his friend and took a drag of his ciggy. Paul looked up at him with a small smile and nodded.

“So am I. I er… Actually, I had something to ask you, Geo.” Paul said, deciding it was better to just get it over with.

“Yes?” George asked when he didn’t continue right away. Paul scraped his throat and took a deep breath as he looked his friend up and down. He was frowning at him, studying him, probably thinking his friend was acting odd. He was.

“You’re my best mate, Geo. Always have been, you know that and I was sort of hoping you’d want to be my best man again. I er… I promise the wedding will happen this time, though.” Paul asked, chuckling at his own joke to try to calm his nerves. George’s lips curled up in a smile and when he nodded his head, Paul let out a deep breath in relief.

“Of course! You hadn’t even needed to ask.” George said, placing his hand on Paul’s knee and squeezing. Paul looked up at him with a thankful smile and nodded, too.

“Thanks, Geo. And thanks for having us over for dinner.”

“Any time, mate. And I meant it, you know. I am glad you finally found someone. After Jane I wasn’t sure you ever would, but I guess I was wrong.”

“You and me both, man. Seems like I’ve got my heart set on marrying a redhead, don’t I?”

“Everyone has a type. Besides, I’m not judging you. Both were and are gorgeous. You’re a lucky man.”

“So it seems.” Paul muttered, taking a deep breath as he tried to ban John out of his head again. God, he couldn’t go on like this. How was he ever going to actually marry Julia if he couldn’t even think about it without feeling guilty towards John? Or Julia, even?

“Any idea where you’d like to go on honeymoon?” George asked, pulling Paul away from his thoughts again. Paul thought about that. He and Julia hadn’t really spoken about their honeymoon. Paul wasn’t even sure if they would go on one, considering their current family situation. But then again, why not. John would probably be moving out anyway, knowing him, and Jules could easily stay with Mimi for a few days.

“We er… we haven’t really thought about it, yet.” He answered truthfully. George nodded, before leaning closer.

“India is great, you know. I loved it there when I went there with Pattie. Very romantic. And you might even learn a couple of things. I have some addresses if you want to try it out.” He said, and Paul chuckled, before politely shaking his head and saying no.

“I’m not sure Julia is the type, Geo. But thanks. No, I think perhaps something like Vienna, or Rome or Venice.”

“Or Paris. You know, the city of love and all that. Seems fitting right?” He asked and Paul smiled at the idea, liking it. He could already picture it, sleeping in a nice hotel, spending the days discovering the city, climbing the Eiffel Tower, going to museums, walking along the Seine and drinking coffee at fancy cafés. Watching the night sky together and seeing the stars reflected in John’s eyes. Julia’s! Julia’s eyes.

“That sounds romantic. I’ll suggest it. Now, enough about me. How are you?” Paul said, eager to change the subject. However, he had expected George’s reaction to his question to be a bit more light hearted, or he might have asked something else.

“I’m… alright. Things have been a bit tough on me and Pattie lately, to be honest. Pattie’s been feeling down, lately. Honestly, I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.” George said, sighing deeply and rubbing his forehead.

“Are you guys okay?” Paul asked, feeling that his friend had to get something of his chest and they had already gotten started on the subject, anyway.

“It’s the children thing. It’s harder on Pattie than on me, of course. She blames herself, which she shouldn’t. She’s perfect and I wouldn’t have her any other way, but she’s so set on the fact that we can’t have kids. She feels guilty, like she failed me as a wife, which is ridiculous, and then she gets sad when she sees mothers in the supermarket or at that hairdresser’s. It doesn’t even matter what I tell her anymore.”

“I thought you guys were going to see if you could adopt?”

“Oh, we are. And really, we’re still mad about each other, but sometimes it just gets hard, you know, and it’s even harder to talk about. I hope we can adopt. I’d love a little one just as much as Pattie does, you know.”

“I’m sure it will work out, George.”

“Oh, I hope so. You’re lucky, Paul. You’ll have a beautiful wife and a lovely family to marry into. You should hold onto them,” George said and Paul swallowed thickly as he tried to smile, “I’m glad you decided to not start anything with that girl.”

“What do you mean? What girl?” Paul asked, frowning.

“You know. That girl you came to talk to me about some months ago at school. The _younger_  girl.” George clarified with a wink. Paul felt his cheeks heat up as he realised what George was talking about. He had completely forgotten he had asked George what to do about John. Not that he knew it had been John, of course.

“Oh right… that girl.” He said as he forced himself to fake a smile at the memory. “Yeah… you were right. It wouldn’t worked out and I would only have fucked up what I had with Julia.” The words hurt. They weren’t far from the truth after all. Even now he knew it wouldn’t work out and he was fucking up what he had with Julia. He couldn’t even look forward to his wedding! Wasn’t that supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life?

“Seems like even an old dog can learn new trick.” George said with a smirk and Paul wanted to say something in response, but right at that moment the girls came back with coffee and biscuits, which meant the end of that topic. Paul supposed he should be relieved, but he wasn’t.

            Although John had gotten home much sooner than he had first thought, he was glad he had gone out that evening. Eric had been right on time and after dinner they had left right away for the theatre. Seeing as neither of them had enough money they had had to sneak in through the back door, but thankfully they hadn’t been caught, and they had been giggling from both the nerves and the adrenaline all the way through the first half of the film.

The plot itself hadn’t been that wonderful, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the King, swaying his hips and singing in that deep voice of his that just _did things_  to John. Thankfully, he seemed to have the same effect on Eric, who had been just as flushed and _excited_ as he had been when John had glanced at him. God, it was good to watch his movies another man who was into guys as well. Eric just understood.

But then they had gone and ruined it. It had been their own fault, of course. John should have known better than to get something to eat during the break, but they had gone and done it anyway, only to be recognised when they had tried to sneak back inside. His hands still burned slightly from when they had been thrown out and onto the streets with threats of calling the police. Still, it had been hilarious.

Eric had stayed dropped him off at home on his bike and John had spend the rest of the evening playing guitar for Jules and letting her have a go at it as well. Overall, it had been a fun evening, despite not having been able to finish the movie. Then again, it hadn’t really been that great, and he’d have enough wanking material from the first half for at least a week or two. He’d survive.

Now, however, John was waiting up in his bed, reading his old copy of Alice in Wonderland again in an attempt to stay awake. Paul and Julia were gone for much longer than he had anticipated, and he caught himself glancing at the clock almost every four minutes, making it difficult for himself to get fully absorbed into his book. He thought about going to Jules’s room and muck around together some more, but she was probably already fast asleep.

Sighing, John closed his book and put it aside as he rolled onto his side and started to draw with his finger on his wall as he whistled a tune. He considered working on that song he was working on, but he already knew it would only be in vain. He needed to focus for that, and he really couldn’t. Not with the idea of Paul and him continuing what they had started that afternoon in the bathroom. His cock was already twitching at the thought.

Finally, John heard the front door open and close, followed by some indistinct whispering. Not long after, he heard the stairs creak and the voices became clearer, but still he could only hear fragments. It seemed that they were talking about the wedding, which made John’s heart fall, but he continued to listen anyway. There was something sad and dark in Paul’s voice, which made John curious. Had something happened?

Then, the voices faded away again and John could hear the door to their bedroom shut. He continued to wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. His eyelids were growing heavy, but John tried to keep them open. He glanced at the clock. John and Julia had been home for an hour now. Surely, Julia would be asleep by now. Why wasn’t Paul coming? He had promised he would. Why wouldn’t he come?

* * *

 

When John awoke that following day, he did so with a jerk. He sat up wide awake, knowing he had overslept without needing to look at the clock. Glancing at his alarm clock, he groaned as he saw it was already half past eight, meaning his first class had already started. He threw himself back in bed and buried his face into his pillow with another groan. He hadn’t meant to skip the first class as he had sort of promised Paul he was going to try harder and he didn’t want to disappoint him, but now he was going to have to. However, in a way it had been Paul’s fault too, so really he ought to take some of the blame as well. If Paul had actually showed up last night or had come home earlier, he would have remembered to set his alarm. As it happened, he had been so busy wondering when Paul would be home and why he wasn’t coming over, that it had slipped his mind.

He considered just skipping class that day, but then remembered that Paul got home early on Mondays and his mother would probably still be at home, too, at the moment, meaning he had to stay in his room if he didn’t want to get caught. That last wouldn’t have posed much of a problem, had it not been for his growling stomach. He’d like some breakfast right now, and he wouldn’t be able to get that without going downstairs. It was probably for the best. And Paul would probably be proud of him too, if he explained it hadn’t totally been his own fault he had over slept. Maybe he could even make Paul feel guilty for not showing up last night. Because, really, that had been somewhat of a dick move. Even if he hadn’t been in the mood, he could have at least told him that, right? Instead of making him wait for him. John didn’t like waiting for anyone. Not even Paul.

He let out a deep sigh and slowly forced himself out of the comfortable warmth of his bed, sliding from beneath the covers and onto the floor like a cat, not feeling like standing up just yet. He lay on the floor of a few seconds, shivering at the lack of warmth, until his stomach started to complain again. He scrambled up on his feet and stumbled over to his closet to pick something simple to wear that day. If Paul wasn’t going to bother to show up when they had decided to meet up, he wasn’t going to look good for him, either.

            As he had thought, his mother was still at home when he came downstairs, fully dressed in a pair of simple blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, his hair made up in his usual Elvis-do, which looked even better now due to last night’s movie. He could hear her from the kitchen, humming a Fat Domino’s song as she did this morning’s dishes, like she always did before she went to work. He dropped his bag by the door so he wouldn’t forget it and went into the kitchen to finally stop his stomach from growling.

“Hi, mum.” He greeted her as he stepped inside, thinking it was best to pretend there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about his coming in for breakfast this late. He’d rather not have to deal with one of his mother’s speeches if he didn’t have to.

“Oh, morning John.” Julia called back and for a moment John thought he would actually pull it off. That is, until his mother glanced over her shoulder with a confused look on her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school? It’s already nine, you know.”

“First class got cancelled. Mr Robert’s ill.” John lied, hoping his mother would buy it. He wasn’t sure if she did, however, not even when she nodded and turned back to her dishes. It had been too easy… she was a Stanley, after all, and she had been as bad as he was when she had been young. John kept a close look on her as got himself a bowl for his cereal.

“Oh, what a shame,” Julia said, tutting and shaking her head, “such a nice man he is, too. I hope he’ll be better soon.”

“He will be. It’s only flu. He’ll be back in a day or two.”

“Yes, let’s hope so. If you want tea, there should still be some left.” She nodded into the direction of the teapot which still stood on the stove. John nodded and poured himself a cup of tea before grabbing the milk from the fridge and adding it to both his cereal and his tea. He took a seat, his back turned to his mother just in case, and took a first bite. His stomach, however, only growled for more. John had another bite, followed by a careful sip of tea. It had cooled down a little, but it was still plenty drinkable.

“Is Paul still here?” He asked his mother, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“No, he just left.” She said and John hummed in reply, wondering why he felt so disappointed again. If anything he should be pissed at him for trying to avoid him, because John was almost certain that was what the older man was doing.

“It was nice of him, though. To come and watch you Friday. He’s trying really hard, you know.” Julia continued, and again, John only hummed, taking another mouthful of cereal to keep himself from grinning at the memory. Especially of what happened in the car after the gig. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip. After all, he was supposed to still be angry with him for getting engaged to his mum, which in a way he was, but for very different reasons. And he wasn’t really angry… just… upset.

“You really ought to be nicer to him, John. Or at least be more accepting. He does really care about you.”

“Not my fault, is it? And why would I? He’s only gonna end up hurting you,” John shot back, more forcefully than he had expected himself, “Like all those other losers.”

“What is it with you and the men I meet, John? Why do you never give any of them a shot? I really do not understand what the problem is. Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“Of course, I want you to be happy, but you know what happens with every guy you bring home, or marry for that fact, they end up leaving you and breaking your heart and they mess with Jules and me, and it’s not worth it, Julia. Paul won’t be any different.”

“He is different, John.” Julia said with a sigh as she put the dishes down, quickly dried her hands and came to kneel besides her son, gently laying a hand on his shoulder, “He loves me. He loves Jules. He loves you. He wants to be with me and be part of our family. He didn’t want to rush into marriage because he wanted to be sure that you and Jules would be okay with it. He even wanted to go look for you when you ran away, remember? He cares, John. He is different. I don’t deny that I made some poor choices in the past and I’ve apologised for that, but Paul isn’t like those men. Paul is sweet and gentle and kind and a true family men. I was terrified when I first admitted I had two children, one of them a troublesome teenage boys, but he didn’t get angry or disappointed at the news, unlike all the others. He was actually… happy. Excited. He loves you almost as much as he loves me and he’ll be good to us.”

John had had to drop his spoon in his bowl and bit down his tongue in order not to let Julia’s words get to him. He was taking all of that away from Paul, wasn’t he? With this stupid affair, if you could even call it that. He was so selfish. Paul never asked for any of this; he just wanted to life with and marry the woman he loved and be a part of her family, like he had always wanted- stability. And now he had gone and ruined it for him. He felt so selfish. He wasn’t being fair.

“John? I know it’s hard for you to except…” Julia continued and John nodded, bawling his hands up into fists as his mother squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, “But Paul isn’t a bad guy and he’ll make us happy. I promise that if he turns out to be different, I’ll break it off. I won’t be making that mistake again, but you have to give him a chance first, John. Please?”

“Okay.” He replied and nodded. His mother planted a kiss on his cheek, before standing back up again, leaving John to take in a few deep breaths to calm himself. He tried to pick up his spoon again, but his fingers were trembling too much, so instead he took a sip of his tea, letting its warmth sooth him. He was being so selfish. He shouldn’t be doing this to Paul. He should talk to Paul. This evening.

“Anyway. How was your evening, John? I heard you taught Jules a song on the guitar?” Julia asked, and John was glad she tried to keep the conversation going. It was better not to think too much about him and Paul for now and wait until he and Paul could talk about it. He would only upset himself.

“Yeah, it was fine.” He replied, taking another sip of tea. He picked up his spoon again after he set his remaining tea back down. He was already shaking a lot less. He ate some more of his cereal. It had gone a bit soggy.

“Any visitors come by?” his mother asked. She had picked up the dishes again, by the sounds of it.

“No. It was just me and her. Quite evening at home, you know.” John said.

“Is that so? And you didn’t go out at all?”

“No. I- you told me not to.” John said, frowning at the sudden questioning. Did she know? She couldn’t know right? Had Jules said anything? But he had blackmailed her with biscuits and chocolate. She wouldn’t. Or maybe his mother just wanted to know for sure?

“Right… So… if, for example, I got a call not half an hour ago from the movie theatre about two young man who had sneaked into an screening of Elvis’s new movie, you wouldn’t be one of those men?” She asked. John’s hand stilled mid-air, shocked at his mother’s words. They had actually rung his mother to tell on him?! Fucking wankers. He tried to think of any kind of smart reply that would prove, rather falsely, his innocence, but he couldn’t think of anything. After all, judging by the sound of his mother’s voice, she was already certain it had been him.

“Fuck…” was all he could utter.

“John! I cannot believe you!” Julia said as she dropped her work again and turned to look at him. John turned in his seat as well, trying to give her his best innocent puppy eyes as he furiously wished he had Paul’s eyes, who was just perfect for this particular look (or any look, really). “And don’t even try that!” She added at his look, and John pouted, but that didn’t seem to work either.

“You promised you’d be here to look after your sister. What if anything had happened to her?”

“But nothing happen, though, did it? She was fine. She’s old enough to be home alone for a few hours. Besides, I was only gone for an hour or two.”

“Yes, because you were kicked out of the movie. John, I know Jules is perfectly capable of taking care of herself for a few hours, but that is besides the point. Something could have happened and when I ask you specifically to be at home for one evening to look after your sister, I want to be certain that you are and not sneaking out!”

“But, Mum-”

“No, John. I want to be able to trust you with that, you understand?” Julia butted in and let out a deep sigh, sounding really disappointed. John winced at that. He’d rather she’d just be angry. “You have house arrest for the rest of the week. I want you to come home right after school.” She finished with a resolute nod, deciding that was the end of the conversation. John, however, wasn’t done at all, yet. She couldn’t ground him?! He was eighteen! And adult! He told her so.

“You’re not when you’re still sneaking out of the house, John. If you want to be an adult so bad, you can start by acting like one. Until the, you’re grounded.”

“But me and the band have a gig this Sunday! We need to practise!” John still tried, already fearing how annoying Stuart was going to be with him. And Ringo, for that matter. He had been looking forward to this gig, for whatever reason. They weren’t going to like this. They needed to practise.

“Well, that’s your own fault, John. If you’re lucky, I might let you go once this week. But only if you’re good. Now, go get your jacket. You should get to school. And remember, be back on time. Paul will be home to check.”

“This is ridiculous! I’m eighteen!” ‘John tried once more, but his mother only shrugged, before turning her back on him. John sighed, but finally gave in. He got up without another word, actually wanting to leave now he still could.

            He was still annoyed when he put his stuff away in his school locker before he’d head to his first- or actually third- class of the day. His second class had already started, so he had decided to skip that one as well and indeed make sure not to run into one of his teachers. He was glad when he found out Stuart had had the same idea.

“Hey, Johnny. You’re a bit late, aren’t ya?” Stuart asked as he clasped his shoulder as an hello and leaned against the lockers. John glanced at him, but didn’t reply half as cheerily, still feeling upset about his being grounded for not good reason.

“Fuck off, Stu. Mum grounded me for sneaking out last night. Those fucking wankers of the theatre snitched on me.” He told him and Stuart could only frown at the news.

“Assholes, they are. The lot of them. Grounded, you said? How long?”

“Till Friday.”

“Shit.” Stuart spat, and John nodded in agreement.

“My words exactly, mate, How dare she?! I’m eighteen! You can’t ground an eighteen year old, can you? If I’m lucky she’ll let me go to practise, which is at least something.”

“Fuck, Lennon. I’d start sucking up, if I were you. Cold your Mum is. What does Paul say?” Stuart asked, but John could only shrug.

“No clue. Haven’t seen the guy since yesterday afternoon. He seems to be ignoring me.”

“Hmm. Touch luck. Wanna go grab some fish and chips are school? Ringo and Maureen asked me. You can be my "plus one”. Stuart asked with a little wink, that only made John laugh.

“Haven’t you been listening? I’m grounded! Paul’ll be there to see if I went home right away after school. I can’t just go have chips with you. However good that might sound.” John said, his mouth watering at the idea of having fish and chips. But he’d have to wait.

“Fine,” Stuart muttered back, “I’ll try to sneak some into the house, instead., yeah?”

“Thanks, mate.” John replied with a thankful smile as he locked his locker. Together they walked to their next class, while discussing the best way to get John his fish and chips without anyone knowing. Most plans were  so ridiculous, it would only cause John more trouble, so in the end, they decided Stuart would just bring it to him. Dull, but simple and effective.

            School seemed to take ages, despite the fact that he had already skipped the first two classes. The shameful idea of being grounded and the worries for the gig were ever present in his mind, but so was Paul, and he was an even bigger distraction. He couldn’t help but wonder why Paul hadn’t shown up that evening. There had to be a logical reason. Paul wouldn’t just leave him like that without having a very good reason, but what they might be, John hadn’t a clue. He supposed it was about him or the wedding, but he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t sure which one he preferred, as neither was particularly good.

However, after all that time spend at school, he still hadn’t found an answer to that question, but he hadn’t really expected that he would have, either. However, it had made him even more eager to find an answer to that question, and right now he was actually rather excited to get home, where he knew he would be able to talk to Paul.

He put his bike against the gate and walked over the little pathway to the front door of the house.  Paul’s car stood indeed outside, but by the looks of it, his mother was too, as her bike was still there. Frowning, he walked inside- the doors were still open- and quickly took off his coat and shoes before he went to find Paul. When he tried to living room, he could here some very distinct voices talking to each other.  Curious, he leaned in and pressed his ear against the door. It took him a few seconds before he started to make out the words. It seemed to be about the wedding.

“Shouldn’t we wait a bit, Julia. I mean, there’s no need to hurry is there?” That was Paul’s voice, sounding a bit fatigued from his work.

“Hurry? The 18th of September is a great day for our wedding. You know, the day you moved in.”

“Yes, but why not October 22th? You know, the day we met? It would give us a whole months extra to get ready!” John gasped as he realised they were deciding on a date for the wedding and pressed his ear more against the door. There was some indistinct muttering on his mother’s side, but he wouldn’t understand a word of it. It was too soft. Then, however, came Paul’s loud voice.

“I do not have cold feet! I just want it to be perfect. For us.”

“I know, luv…” Julia sounded again, a bit more forceful this time.

“And what about the schools?” Paul cut in before she had even properly started, sounding oddly panicked.

“September 18th is on a Saturday, luv. We’ll be fine. The kids will be fine. Besides, September is still months away! We have plenty of time. We only want it to be simple, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“Please, Paul. September 18th would be perfect for us. With the weather, the timing and the significance. Okay”

Now Paul said something that John couldn’t hear. His body started to complain about its awkward angle, so he moved to sit on his knees. This way he could also glance through the keyhole in the door, but he couldn’t see his mother nor Paul. He could still here them talking, and although Julia sounded slightly annoyed right now, John still couldn’t make out her words. Only fragments that made no sense.

“But shouldn’t we ask the children first?” Paul proposed and Julia groaned loudly at this. John could see a flash of her red hair through the lock, but it disappeared  as quickly as it had come.

“Paul, they will be okay. I talked to John this morning and he said he’d be willing to give you a chance. You should be happy about this! It’s our wedding.”

Paul muttered something inaudible again and John shifted on his knees, still trying to find the best position as quietly as possible, so he wouldn’t miss anything. When his mother spoke again, she now sounded truly pissed off.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t show it! Christ, Paul. It’s normal to get cold feet, but you seem like you’re being dragged to prison. If you don’t want to get married just fucking say so.”

John blinked at his mother’s words. She rarely ever cursed and hearing it was always a surprise. Paul, however, didn’t sound too shocked.

“I do, Julia. But I want this to be perfect. Unlike you, I haven’t been married yet, remember. This is new for me and it probably will be the only time. I’d like this to be perfect for us, thank you.”

It stayed quiet for a while after that, and John tried to look through the keyhole to see what they were doing, as he readied himself to hurry away if either of them decided to leave. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. He could hear one of them sigh and sit down a chair.

“I want to get married, Julia. You know I do. I love you for Christ’s sake, but I want it to be perfect. For you. For us. For the children-”

“And it will be, Paul. That one month won’t matter. And I get that it’s scary, but I just want to get married already. We’ve waited for so long already, I can’t wait to see your shiny ring around my finger and call you my man. My husband. It will be perfect, Paul. September is still 8 months away, after all.”

“I know, Julia. I’m sorry.” Paul’s words were caught of by the sound of a kiss. Julia muttered something else and Paul nodded before agreeing. A chair was being pulled back and the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor alerted John someone was coming. He scurried back to the front door and pretended to just have hung up his coat as the door opened and both Paul and Julia walked out, both looking rather tired. When Paul’s eyes meet his, John can’t help but swallow, realising this was really happening and how much harder he was making it for Paul. He was so fucking selfish.


	23. Chapter 23

John let out a deep sigh as he stared up at the ceiling, letting Paul’s words sink in. He had known it, of course. He had already known it about two weeks ago, when he had heard his mother and Paul talk about it in the kitchen and he had been eavesdropping. But hearing it now, from Paul’s mouth, made it all the more real. Like a fixed point in time that could not be shifted. A threat that would forever hang above their heads. The wedding would be on the 18th of September this year, whether they wanted it to be or not.

“It’s kind of fitting, though, isn’t it? In a really weird and fucked up way?” He muttered and he could feel Paul nod as he buried his face in the crook of his neck and kissed him there.

“I’m sorry. I tried to change it.”

“I know you did.” John sighed again, unsure of what else to say. There wasn’t much to say, though, was there? What was there to say when you just heard what day your lover would marry your mother instead of you? And even worse, the date your relationship with him would be over. You couldn’t say anything, could you?

Paul’s lips burned into his skin, hot and impossible to ignore. It was almost painful. His throat constricted at the feeling, making it difficult to breathe, especially when Paul’s fingers made their way up his body until they reached his neck, cradled around it, and the tips disappeared into his hair, pulling him closer. But John didn’t want to get closer. The feeling of Paul touching him like that, kissing him and holding him, made him feel uneasy, confined and restrained, like everything was closing in on him and all air was leaving his body. It was too much; he couldn’t do it anymore, so he pulled away and sat up in his bed, sighing as Paul’s hands and lips fell from his skin.

He and Paul hadn’t spoken much since that day two weeks ago. At first it had been Paul to ignore him, but John had liked the solitude at night and eventually had faked being asleep when Paul would turn up his door again, resulting in them spending less and less time together, giving them time to think. Not that he had come to any answers. If anything, it had caused only more doubts.

“John? Are you okay?”

John turned to him with a frown, unsure how to answer that. He hadn’t been truly “okay” since the news of the engagement. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Why was everything so complicated? Perhaps it really was best if they…

“Shouldn’t we stop?”

Paul blinked at him stupidly for a few moments, his jaw slack, if he couldn’t understand why John was saying this.

“I’m being selfish, Paul. It’s stupid. You deserve that happiness that you can have with Julia.”

“John, don’t say things like that.” Paul said as he sat up, too. But John shook his head and shuffled further away from the other man and looked him pleadingly in the eye, feeling oddly vulnerable, saying what had been bothering him for days. And now that he had started, he wanted to say it. He needed to. To get it off his chest.

“But it’s true. I _am_  selfish, asking you to give all that up. And for what? Just a few months extra? It’s not worth it, Paul. I can see how difficult this is for you.”

“You’re not being selfish.” Paul tried, but John cut in almost immediately.

“Yes, I am. You could be living a happy life with Julia now, lying besides her and holding her close, and enjoy life with a happy family and a kid to look after. But instead you’re here with me! And for what? I’m a selfish prick keeping you here, making you come to my room every night for a few minutes together. And next thing you’re married and it will be awkward between us and you still won’t have that family you’ve always dreamed of. All because of me. Because I was selfish enough to want you for myself.” He said, his voice wavering as the words flew out of his mouth, easy and without thought, as if they had been burning on the tip of his tongue for months, only to be finally poured out. His fingers were shaking, so he grabbed the sheets to keep them steady. His eyes were burning, so he looked away from Paul to keep them dry. His body jerked when Paul laid a hand on his knee, making him look at him again.

“John, I _love_  you, remember? We talked about this. I love you and I don’t want to lose you. You’re not being selfish, John. You’re not ruining anything and we’re going to work it out, okay? U-unless you… don’t want to…”

“No! I-I love you, too. It’s just… It’s not worth it, Paul…  You know it’s not. You deserve to be happy and I can’t give you what you want. We don’t have a future together. We know how it will end, so why go on? I’m ruining things, Paul. I can see how much it’s hurting you. How hard it is. It’s not worth it. None of it is.”

“John, dear, aren’t you hearing me? I love you. You make me happy and I love being with you. I like going to your room and spend time with you. Yes, I am torn and yes, it’s not easy and yes, we know we can’t go on forever, but that’s exactly why I _don’t_  want to stop. I still love you and care for you and I don’t want to lose you, yet. I know it’s going to end. It’s naive to say otherwise, but it’s because of that I want to continue this with you. I want to make the best of the time we do have together, so we won’t regret anything. That there will be no doubt and that I will be happy for you when you find someone who will turn your life around and for whom you’ll fall head over heels. When that happens, I want to be able to be happy for you and not feel any doubt or regret for not having taken what I wanted when I had it. I love you, John, and I want you, and I don’t care how daft that might sound right now, but I don’t want to lose you just yet.

"I was the one to come to your room that night to say I wanted to continue this thing between us, remember? I wanted this as much as you did, John, and I still want this. That hasn’t changed. I still love you, although I understand that better now. I’m just as selfish as you are, John. Just as much at fault. I realise that, and sometimes that is hard. Sometimes it makes me hate myself. Hate Julia and even hate you. Because there is no answer. And I’m horrible for betraying Julia, betraying you. But, in spite of all that, I am not going to give this up. We’ve come this far, we might as well go on. Stick to our plan. No regrets.”

John couldn’t help but chuckle, the determination in his voice and countenance almost comical, but at the same time he felt like crying. It _was_ hard. All of this was hard. Ridiculously so. It was hard for him, knowing he was ruining Paul’s life (no matter what Paul said), that he was fucking his Mum’s fiancé, that he had to look at Paul and Julia together, that he knew they were going to get married every time he looked at Paul’s eyes and saw love in them, that he was hurting himself, willingly. But it was hard for Paul, too. Perhaps even more so, tied between two lovers, not knowing what to do, betraying them both and making things worse and worse with every moment he and John did not put an end to this. And yet, he wanted to continue. He loved John so much, that he didn’t want to stop. Not yet. Not now they still had the chance to enjoy themselves. To loose themselves in the other and enjoy their blind love, knowing it was going to end.

He chuckled and Paul smiled back at him. He reached for his cheek and caressed him there. This time, John didn’t pull away. He didn’t even as much as twitch as Paul’s finger touched his cheek.

“John,” Paul spoke, his voice softer and gentler now, “ _I_  kissed _you_. _I_  told _you_  I wanted to continue this. If anyone is ruining anything, it’s me. There are two people in this, John. Me and you, and I’m just as much at fault as you are. But you were the one to convince me we should just continue this and enjoy it while we can, and I understand that now. I want that, too. So, this time I’ll be convincing you. Because, fuck, I don’t want to stop this yet. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person, but for some reason, I cannot stop this yet. Not yet. Because damn it, I do not want to regret you.”

“Do you ever regret it? Starting this? Between us?”

“No.” The answer startled John. He blinked a few times, and stared into Paul’s eyes, checking for anything that might say otherwise. But there was nothing. Paul gave a weak smile, before he shook his head, his face softening as his hand lowered to his should, gripping him and gently pulling him closer again.

“God, John. I don’t regret any of this. Well… perhaps I regret what happened with the news of the engagement. And perhaps about the whole love triangle thing, but I never regret having started this with you, John. And if I could go back right now, I would choose for you again.”

John had to smile at that, already feeling better from just hearing Paul’s words, firm and resolute. He nodded, although doubtfully, but for Paul it was enough. He smiled, broader this time, genuine, and leaned in for a kiss, which John met half-way.

“Do you still want to stop?” Paul muttered against his lips and John shook his head light, not wanting to break the kiss.

“No.” He whispered back, and leaned into Paul, letting his body rest against Paul’s as the older man laid him back down.

            Paul held John loosely as he played with the younger man’s hair as a distraction. He was still shaking, although Paul doubted he was even aware of it himself. John’s question hadn’t come as a completely surprise, but still it had taken Paul off guard. He was certain that if he had had more time to think about it or if they had had this conversation in the afternoon, when his mind was more awake, he would have come with better responses, a better way to get his point across, but nevertheless, it seemed like John had still understood him.

Yet, the younger man still seemed upset. Paul couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been lying. It was tough on him, too, moving between lovers. More so than it had been in the past. Somehow it was different. Either because it was John, or because this was a guy, or because they all lived together, he didn’t know. With Jane, he had had more than enough pretty girls with whom he dated and slept with. Jane had never even known until she had caught him that one time. That had been a stupid mistake, but he had been so certain she would stay away for at least another few days. It hadn’t been his fault she had decided to come home early.

But this time, it was different. He didn’t like lying to Julia. He didn’t like having to pretend John didn’t mean much more to him than he did. He didn’t like having to excuse his affection towards John in any way. He didn’t like having such mixed feelings about the wedding. But it was there and he had asked himself those same questions. He had come to the realisation that it would never work out between he and John, right after they had agreed to look for an solution. So it was only natural to ask himself what he was doing it for. Why he was torturing not only himself, but also John and Julia and even Jules. Love. That was the answer. But that sounded dumb.

“Do you remember when we met?” Paul asked, clearing his throat when he realised how croaky he sounded. John chuckled at the question as he raised up his head and looked down at Paul as if he were stupid. Already, he looked better.

“Of course, I do. It was only half a year ago, you know.” He said, still chuckling and Paul smiled up at him, snaking his arm around John’s waist, holding him, enjoying the wonderful sound that were coming out of the younger man’s throat. He loved it when John smiled, or laughed, or chuckled, or was just happy. Right now seemed the first time he had seen John smile… well, since they had been making out in the bathroom.

He shouldn’t have been avoiding John after dinner with George and Pattie, but dealing with his emotions had always been hard for him. He had felt guilty, towards John, towards Julia, even towards Jules, and he hadn’t known how to deal with that, so he had cut himself off. He had pulled up his mask and avoided the man he loved because he knew how much he was going to hurt him in the end and he hadn’t known how to deal with that. Imagine that, a forty-two year old not knowing how to deal with emotions and love.

Despite his reputations as a lady’s man, which he had well deserved, he had never been good at keeping a relationship. He had a wandering eye, his cock spoke for his mind too often, and although he liked that long-term relationship, the deep bonds and the security of having a partner to whom he could always return and was always there for him, it was difficult. As John was proving once again. But he tried. He always tried. But even so, it was like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“What did you think of me? Truthfully.” Paul asked, letting his finger tips draw circles in the small of his back. John grinned at him, mischief flickering in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to know?” He asked almost flirtatiously, making Paul laugh as well, before nodding.

“Please.”

John pretended to think about that for a little while, before finally answering.

“Well, you were very handsome. Or actually, you were pretty and cute, rather than handsome,” John shot Paul a little wink at the look he received for that, because really, it wasn’t his fault Paul was pretty, “with your pouty lips and long hair, and chubby cheeks and your ridiculously long eyelashes. I really liked your large puppy eyes; I could already imagine what they would look like when you would be fucking me into oblivion.” Paul playfully smacked his arm at his cheek, but John only laughed and leaned down to place a quick and chaste kiss on the other’s lip. The scold on Paul’s face melted into an amused smile almost instantly.

“I thought you were handsome and looked younger than you were. But I was surprised too at way you dealt with me. You looked back at me, you talked back at me, which almost no one does, not even people of my own age. I am intimidating. I know that and I try to keep that up, but you didn’t seem to care. I liked you. Even if I didn’t want to admit it myself, yet.” John continued as he pulled away again. Paul could see he felt awkward about talking about it. He was squirming against him, and looking down at the hairs on his chest (he hadn’t shaved for a little while. Too busy), and playing with him. But there was also a smile on his face, letting Paul know he liked to think about that time and was probably amused.

“What about you?”

Paul was taken aback by the question, which was ridiculous, considering he had been the one to bring up the subject in the first place. He decided to say the first thing that came up in his head, even if that probably wasn’t what John wanted to hear.

“I thought you were a brat.” Sure enough John stared down at him in shock at his words, jaw falling slack. Paul continued: “You were rude and angry and although you were handsome, the frown was a turn off.”

“You didn’t like me very much, then?”

“No, but I understood. I knew what it was like to loose a parent, albeit it under different circumstances and for you it must have been harder, as he might still be out there somewhere, but I understood. I knew what it was like to meet your mother’s (or in my case father’s) new lover, as if the other person could be replaced. You had no reason to be nice to me, John, so I didn’t hate you for it or anything. But I didn’t like you very much, no.”

“But you like me now…”

“Yes.”

“So, when…?”

John didn’t need to finish that question for Paul to understand what he wanted to know, but he truly wasn’t certain. He supposed he had sort of liked John, in the beginning. He had liked the roughness, the cheek and the whole teddy boy thing. John was everything Paul never had been, but had wanted to be. But at first that had angered him. John had angered him and he really hadn’t liked him.

It had been a gradual thing. The more he had learned about John, to more he had seen him around his friends and around Jules, the more he had grown to like him. To see he wasn’t all bad. That he had a sense of humour (which sometimes was a little rude and dark, and most of the time plainly ridiculous, but still funny), a sense of humour sometimes only he seemed to understand perfectly. That he liked music, and art, and played the guitar and was eager to learn. That he was clever. But also that there was a second part of him. A gentler part, kind and sweet, which he could only catch glimpses off when he had been around Jules.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I never hated you or anything, and eventually I saw other parts of you, too. Parts that I liked. And even later I learned to like your anger and rudeness,as well. Like I said, I understood, so it wasn’t that difficult to start thinking differently about you.”

“So… no "oh wow, he is the one I’ve been dreaming off all my life”-moment?“ John asked, sounding honestly a little disappointed. Paul laughed at that but shook his head.

"Sorry, love.” He said.

“I knew I liked you from the beginning. Even if I didn’t realise it until much later. I didn’t know what I was, so I probably got even more angry with you.” John admitted.

“Well, I feel flattered, John.” Paul joked with a somewhat bitchy look and a snicker, the last of which John mimicked.

“As you should be.” John finished and leaned down to kiss Paul again, pressing his lips firmly against Paul’s as he moved his hand to cradle Paul’s jaw in the palm of his hand, needing to feel him and not wanting him to pull away.

            They lay together a little while longer, simply kissing and caressing each other as they remembered things from the first few weeks when they had almost despised each other, laughing at their own stupidity and the things they had done. John had apologised for that comment on Paul’s eyebrows and bringing up his mum in that, but Paul had assured him it was fine. She had been gone since he was fourteen and people had said worse things about her than having “perfect eyebrows”. But still, John had felt so much better.

Now, however, it was getting awfully late, but John didn’t want Paul to leave yet. So, he held onto him tightly and planted kisses all over his body, in a faint attempt to keep Paul distracted and keep him from looking at the clock and seeing what time it was. But, of course, Paul was stronger than that and even when John “accidentally” brushed his hand over Paul’s crotch, he still glanced at the clock and cursed as he saw it was already half past one in the morning. When he tried to pull away to sit up, John growled and held on to him tighter, refusing to let him go.

“John, it’s already half past one in the morning. We need to catch some sleep.” Paul tried, but John wouldn’t hear anything of it.

“I don’t want you to go.” He muttered as if he were only six years old, and Paul rolled his eyes at him as he tried to pry John’s arms lose.

“Come on, John. I’ve been here long enough.”

“Actually, you haven’t come to visit me at all for the last two weeks, so you should catch up for lost time. Conclusion: you stay here with me and let me kiss you.” John said, but Paul shook his head.

“However tempting that is, I’m still leaving.”

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yes.” With that one simple word, John’s arm fell slack and Paul could sit up and pull away. Now, however, it was he, who didn’t want to leave. Still, he knew he should, so he sat up with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and stretch out his body, before finally getting up, shivering at the cold air that was now caressing his body. Already he longed to be back in that comfortable bed with John wrapped around him. Nice and warm.

“What about the wedding?” John asked suddenly, and Paul was startled by the question. He turned back to him with a frown on his face, which must have said more than enough, for John continued: “For the er… deadline. Our deadline.”

Oh.

“So, we are going to continued this? No regrets and all that?” Paul asked, wanting to hear it from John’s own mouth, in his own words. He felt relieved when John nodded.

“Yes. You were right. It wouldn’t change much to quit now. What do those last few months matter, right? We ought to enjoy it while we can.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Paul muttered, smiling weakly, despite his aching hard at the idea that one day he would have to kiss John for the last time. Hold him for the last time. See him come at his touch for the last time. See him smile at him with such love for the last time. To never see or do any of that ever again. That one day, he might have to touch John, simply and innocently, like a hand on a shoulder and that his heart would ache as memories washed over him, of lost times together, deep in love and yet always scared and worried. It had never hit him as much as it had now. It wasn’t fair.

“So? What will be our… er… date?” John asked again, dragging Paul away from his thoughts and Paul was glad he had or he had been afraid he might cry.

“What about the first day of school? We can say goodbye as lovers and come back home as… as…”

“Family.” John answered for him. Paul swallowed thickly, before nodding. John nodded, too.

“Okay.” He agreed and Paul smiled faintly at him, before kissing his cheek and walking away, his stomach churning with an awful nauseousness.

“Oh, and Paul,” John called after him, “let’s just enjoy it while it lasts, yeah? Keep to the deadline and not think about it. No more second thoughts. No more… avoiding.”

Paul nodded, before closing John’s bedroom door behind him and returning to Julia. His other life. A new turn in this senseless game.

* * *

 

Morning came too early for Paul’s liking. He would have loved to stay in bed just a little bit longer. To roll around between the sheets, enjoying the warmth and comfort, and curl around the warm body besides him, pulling her closer to him and nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck. To hear her giggle in his ear and feel her pulse under his lips. To gently ride the waves of sleep, drifting away and coming back again with intervals, until his sleepy state would finally ebb away. But of course, life wasn’t that kind. The alarm clock on his side of the bed went off, pulling him roughly away from the lucid dream he had been having and dropping him like a stone onto his bed. His eyes shot wide open, making him groan as he sunlight hit his eyes through the little crack between the curtains. The body in his arms stirred, too, and he rolled away from it to turn of the horrible intrusive sound. He sighed when silence once again took over, eyes falling shut again.

“Aren’t you going to get up?” A croaky voice besides him asked, but Paul only shook his head.

“You have to work this morning.” The same voice reminded him, and if it the voice hadn’t sounded suspiciously feminine, Paul would have thought it had been his own conscious nagging at him. He was lucky he wasn’t. With someone else he could argue.

“They can wait. It’s not like those kids actually care if I turn up again.” He muttered as he rolled over and pulled the covers high up, snuggling up beneath them as he let out a yawn.

“They do if it’s their first class of the day and you won’t let them know they can sleep in first. Honestly, it’s a miracle they haven’t tried to kill you for it, yet.”

“They love me.”

“As do I, and I want you near me, as well.”

“Can’t do both. I choose you.”

“Very sweet, but you can’t. I have to work, too.” The voice said with a chuckle and Paul’s body gave a slight jerk as he suddenly felt a pair of lips on his cheek and an arm curling around his waist, gently rolling him over. Paul opened his eyes and smiled as he looked straight into Julia’s light brown ones. Her hair seemed to glow almost golden in the sunlight.

“Why do you always have to ruin everything for me?” Paul asked, a cheeky smile on his lips as he stared into her eyes. She chuckled at that and leaned in to place a sweet kiss on Paul’s lips.

“Because I’ll be your wife in a few months and that’s just what we do. We make sure our men stay on the right track. Now, get your lazy arse out of bed.” She muttered against them, before she pulled away from him and rolled off to get out of bed herself. Paul followed her as she threw the covers of her and stood up, her sleeping  gown falling perfectly along her naked form in a way he would like to call teasingly. When she turned back and saw he still hadn’t moved an inch, she grabbed her pillow and threw it at his head, laughing when Paul didn’t even move away.

“Alright! Alright! I’ll get up. Now, get out so I can get changed.” He growled as he pulled the pillow off him and threw it back, missing Julia only just. By a meter. Or two. Actually, he wasn’t even close. She chuckled at his failed attempt and blew him a kiss, before pulling on her bathrobe and walking out of the bedroom.

“I’ll make your coffee.” She said and Paul had just enough time to say thank you, before the door closed behind her. He let himself back in bed with a deep sigh.

            He didn’t stay much longer in bed. Julia was right, of course. He couldn’t turn up late at school, so he would have to get up eventually. And the longer he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the more his mind started to think and remember last night’s talk with John. He was glad they had been able to talk about it, and that they had decided not to end things between them, despite the fact that they both knew things weren’t going to turn out the way they wanted. He was going to marry Julia and they would have to end this thing between them on the first day of school in the first week of September. It wasn’t a good thing to think about, but at least they had both agreed to simply enjoy it while they had the chance. But still, that didn’t make him feel any less guilty. But he had promised John he was going to do this, so he would have to pull through. Thinking about it as little as possible seemed to be an okay way to start.

After he had taken a very quick shower, shaved himself, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, he went back to his bedroom to get dressed. As he passed John’s bedroom, he thought about saying good morning, but quickly decided against it, knowing John would keep him longer than he had time. The boy was very convincing when he wanted to be and knowing John he’d want him to stay a little longer, kiss him a little longer, touch him a little longer, and he could even talk him into oral sex if he wanted to, which sounded tempting, but really, he had to hurry. And how was he going to explain that to his boss?

Chuckling to himself, he grabbed himself something to wear and got dressed. He glanced longingly at his bed before shaking his head and stepping into his slacks. When was the next school holiday again? It couldn’t be that much longer, right? He really needed one. Especially since he had hardly had a chance to enjoy his last one, what with John running away and all. Maybe they could all go away for a while. It wouldn’t be Paris, but it would be a chance to get away with John for a while. Go somewhere else and be more free.

The idea of spending a holiday with John hadn’t left his mind since he had first imagined it that time a couple of weeks ago. He could only image how wonderful it would be to go to Paris with John. Just the two of them without any worries and fears of getting caught. Paris itself sounded wonderful, too, of course, but if he could be there with John that would be perfect. He doubted he could convince Julia to go to Paris, especially if Julia would rather go with him there on their honeymoon, which was more than possible. She had said she would love to go with him to Paris, but she had also loved the idea of Rome or Venice or somewhere in Greece.

So, maybe they couldn’t go to Paris, but surely they could go somewhere else? Somewhere near the beach, or somewhere more forest-y. Maybe they could go to the south coast? Or the Lake District? Or Scotland? It had been a while since he had gone to Scotland, and he loved it there. He was certain John would to. Maybe he could teach him how to ride. A horse, that is. Or they could go camping near a lake or stay in one of those old castles. He should talk to Julia about it. She and Jules would love it, too.

He smiled to himself and buttoned up his shirt before pulling on is grey sweater vest, as he imagined it. He would get John to himself and they wouldn’t have to worry as much about getting caught. If he could learn John how to ride, they could go away together, just the two of them. He knew Julia wasn’t very fond of horses, but he was certain John would like to give it a go. Maybe they could even stay near a farm and have John and Jules learn the finer ways of being around and living with animals, which was something he had loved in his late-twenties. Yes, it would be perfect, he concluded as stuffed his shirt in his slacks and straightened out his clothes in front of the small mirror.

When he heard footsteps approaching, he decided to ask Julia what she thought of the idea right away. If they still wanted to get away so soon, they were going to have to start planning and arranging everything soon, after all. Besides, he doubted Julia would refuse. It would do everyone some good to get away after all that had happened. He reached besides him to grab his tie from the bed, but frowned when he couldn’t find it. He turned his head to look and frowned when he couldn’t see it. He was certain he had laid it out.

“Julia, dear, have you seen my tie?” He asked as he heard the bedroom door creak open behind him, “I swear I just had it right here.” Before he could turn back around however, someone pulled something over his eyes, clouding his vision with something silky as a warm body pressed itself against his back and a warm gush of breath swept over his ear.

“You mean this one?” John voice sounded in his ear like a soft, husky whisper, which was followed by a naughty little giggle and the feeling of a pair of lips pressing against the spot right behind his ear. Paul grinned at that and leaned into John’s body, enjoying the firm press of it and the sound of John’s voice in his ear, which seemed only louder now his vision was blocked.

“Yes,” He said, reaching up to take the tie from John, “thank you, John.”

“Any time.” John replied and kisses the same spot again before letting go and pulling away. If Paul hadn’t needed to get to work, he would have been disappointed. He turned around to face John and leaned in to kiss him properly this time, pressing his lips firmly against John’s, who moaned at the touch, his hands coming up to rest on his shoulder and pull him a little closer. Paul couldn’t help but chuckle at his willingness and nipped teasingly at John’s bottom lip before pulling away.

“Morning.” He said and John smiled back at him, before he took Paul’s tie again and started to wrap it around Paul’s neck and tying it for him. Paul let him, watching John’s face closely as the boy concentrated at the task at hand. He kissed him again as a thank you when John was done and took the tie from John to push it beneath his vest and fix it.

“You alright?” Paul asked when he broke the kiss. John nodded.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure. You still want this to continue?” Paul asked, just to be sure. He tried not to grin like a fool when John quickly nodded at that, his eyes widening in surprise that Paul might even think such a thing. It was kind of adorable, which was a strange way to describe John, but the more he got to know John, the more that word seemed to fit him.

“Just checking.” He said quickly and John nodded again, smiling in relief as he leaned up and kissed Paul again. Paul let him, but when John started to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.

“Sorry. I kind of have to leave for work soon. We can er… take this further later.”  He said and the disappointment was evident on his face, despite the smile. It was too hesitant.

“Or,” John said, his voice once again husky which made Paul’s knees weaken, “I could come with you and we could make use of that closet again.” He looked up at Paul with a cheeky grin and a suggestive wink, making Paul’s throat dry, but he still refused.

“Another time. I promise.” He said and John pouted, but when Paul only shot him another look, he sighed and nodded.

“Fine. But you owe my a blow job.” He said and Paul laughed as he wrapped an arm around John’s shoulder and turned him around and guided him towards the door.

“Oh, dear,” he said, still laughing, “I will give you much more than a blow job.” He found it difficult to look away from the light blush that spread over John’s cheeks at that promise, but when they walked into Jules, he had to. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the heated look on her brother’s face. Yes, a holiday would be preferable.

            Of course, when Paul was finally at school, he had wished he had taken up John’s offer to come to school with him to have sex in the closet in Paul’s classroom. The class he was teaching at the moment was quietly working on the assignments he had given and were only speaking quietly to one another as they worked. They were going on just fine, the assignments not being very challenging, which meant Paul had little to do and little to distract himself with, which meant he found himself often thinking about a certain 18-year-old with a certain Elvis hairstyle, very lovely almond shaped eyes and a sweet smile.

He didn’t want to think about him. Or rather, he shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not in the way he was when he was sitting before a class of people of John’s age. He tried to think of other things. He had tried to read the paper, and correcting some work, but it hadn’t helped. Every time he had finally gotten into it, some little thing would remind him of John and he’d be drooling over him for another five minutes. Really, it was John’s fault for talking about blow jobs before he had to leave for work. And for blindfolding him.

It was something he had never given any thought. To blindfold someone or let someone blindfold him during sex. He had known people did it, of course, but he had never considered it himself. None of his partners had either, especially since most of them had only been one night stands and you wouldn’t try anything like that with someone you barely knew. But since John had done it to him as a joke, and he had realised just how thrilling it could be, not knowing where the other people was, what he was doing, what he was planning on doing, he found himself considering it. Even from that little moment, he had noticed that John’s touch and voice had been more intense without the ability to see. In fact, he wasn’t only considering it, he wanted to try it. With John. And not only blindfolds.

Very quickly, his brain had followed that line of thought to restraining your lover in other ways. By tying them up. And if that didn’t make Paul’s cock twitch in his pants… He could already see it. John tied up for him, lying there on the bed, completely at his mercy, to do with as he pleased… To make him ache and beg for it. For a single touch. For him. Needing him, but not being able to do anything about it. Or even the other way around. Him being tied up and at John’s mercy. To let John take from him what he wanted and use him as he liked… He wasn’t sure what he liked about that, but he could hardly deny the hardness that was slowly forming in his pants. Which was exactly why he shouldn’t be thinking about it. Not now.

“Mr McCartney? Are you alright? You look a little flushed, sir.” A girl’s voice asked him, making him look up in slight embarrassment. He was a disgrace, thinking about something so foul in front of his students. John was killing him without even being around. It was getting ridiculous.

Some of the students were looking at him curiously. The girl who had asked him was frowning at him as she leaned forward a little, studying his face. Paul smiled at her and nodded, trying to look as charming as possible without it becoming flirty.

“Yes, thank you. I er… I haven’t slept that well, is all.” He said with a wave of his hand and reached for a stack of papers as he took his pen back in hand, trying to make it seem like he was going to do some work himself. The girl nodded at that, although she didn’t seem too convinced and turned back to her friend to continued the assignment. The other students quickly followed and Paul pretended to work on correcting work again, until the bell finally rang. He quickly assigned some homework and wished them away. As soon as the last person had left the room, he groaned and let his head fall onto his desk with a painful thud.

            “Morning, Paul. Wife kept you up all night?” George’s voice sounded from the door. Paul, however, didn’t bother to lift his head from his desk and only turned his head slightly so he could see his friend walk into the classroom and shut the door behind him.

“She’s not my wife yet, Harrison. Do try to remember.” He muttered as he watched George pull up a chair to sit down besides Paul.

“Nah. Can’t be bothered. You’ll be married soon enough.” He said as he nudged his friend rather painfully, not afraid to hurt him. Thankfully, Paul was used to it; George had never been particularly considerate in that respect. He sighed and turned his head back around, so he was looking down at his wooden desk again, not feeling like talking to people.

“Tired?”

“A bit. Wish my brain was too, though.”

“You always had a too colourful a imagination. Let me guess, wedding night?” George asked, making Paul grin.

“Something like that.” He said, knowing he couldn’t really get closer to the truth than that. Finally, he raised his head and sat up in his chair again as he looked at George. “What do you want?” He asked as he saw the all too familiar look on his friend’s face. The nervous calculating gaze, the occasional licking of the lip, yes it was obvious he wanted something. Still, he pretended to be hurt.

“Can’t a guy simply want to talk to his best mate?” He asked, and Paul shot him a knowing look.

“Not when you’re looking at me like that. What is it?” He said and George’s face fell, before he licked his lips again and leaned in a little closer.

“I don’t want anything, Paul. It’s just that I was looking at this new guitar last weekend and-”

“You want to borrow money for a new one?” Paul finished for him, surprised when George shook his head.

“Unless you’re offering, no. Actually, it’s about John.”

“John?”

“Hmm… I was at Epstein’s shop, you know it, don’t you?”

“Of course!”

“Well. It seems that young Brian has become rather interested in the music scene here and has been listening to John and his band play. Seems like he’s looking for someone to manage. Says he wants to talk to John about.” George explained, now grinning from ear to ear. Honestly, Paul couldn’t quite belief what he was hearing. Someone actually wanted to give John and his band a chance? Seriously?

“You’re fucking shitting with me here, Harrison.” He said, studying George and trying to remember if he had done anything that would cause George to seek revenge by pulling a trick on him.

“No! I’m not. He’s been coming to The Cavern lately, but he hasn’t seen John again since two weeks ago. He knows me of course and knows you’ve been seeing his mum, so he asked me to inform you to tell John. He actually wanted to go see Julia this week, but seeing as he bumped into me… well, it’s just easier, you know.”

“Sure.”

“D'you think he’s actually a queer?” George asked, his voice now hushed and quiet as he glanced around to see if they were still alone. They were. Paul felt his cheeks heat up at the question. He knew Brian, albeit it rather superficially, and he had realised Brian was… well… that they had more in common than they had first thought, but still he wasn’t certain. They had never talked about it, hinted on it or anything like that. George had brought it up before- years ago when Paul hadn’t been aware of his own sexuality yet- but he had brushed it off at the time, telling him not to be stupid, purely out of fear of how George would react to a guy like that.

“Whose been saying that?!” He said, pretending to be shocked. It seemed to have worked, as George blushed and looked down at his fingers as he started to clean his nails and shrugged.

“No one. But you know… he was refused for military serves back in the day, remember. He’s not actually, you know, weak or mentally unfit, so why else would he have been refused?”

“I don’t know, George! What does it even matter, right?”

“Do you mean that? You wouldn’t care if he was?”

“Would you?” Paul asked, feeling uncomfortable answering that question, knowing no answer would be the right one in this situation. George thought about it, before he shrugged.

“But it’s wrong, though, innit? It’s not right?”

“Is love ever truly right?”

“Well, if he likes playing for the other team, I’m not playing that game.  He can stay away from me and leave me and Pattie alone. I would look out for John, if I were you. You can never be certain.”

“I’ll remember, Geo.” Paul replied with a sigh, hoping that was the end of that topic of conversation. He was more than a little relieved when George changed the subject to his wedding. His good and proper heterosexual wedding.

            By the time Paul had gotten home, he had almost forgotten all about the awkward conversation with George. He wished he was able to confide in George with his “unnatural” feelings, but he had always known that even though George would try to accept him, he would never look at him the same way, and he didn’t want to deal with that. Besides, he was 42. He had been fine until now, so why would that change. No one needed to know.

He was, however, still excited about the news George had brought. If Brian indeed wanted to talk to John about managing his band, that would be fantastic for John! Who knew what kind of opportunities that would bring and how John’s future would look. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. After all, becoming famous and rich by making music was a dream they both shared, even though it was a little too late for himself.

He let the door fall shut with a loud thud behind him and took off his coat and shoes. He smiled as he heard piano music coming from the living room, meaning John was playing again. The younger man hadn’t played piano in a while and it was nice to hear it again, knowing he was the reason John was playing in the first place.

Quickly, he put away his stuff and hurried to the living room, where he indeed found John sitting behind the piano, playing a simple tune Paul had taught him so many weeks ago. He looked up into his direction as he heard Paul come into the living room, fingers not halting their play. John briefly smiled at him as their eyes met, before turning back to focus on what he was playing.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked as a way of saying hello and shuffled over slightly so Paul could sit down besides him. Paul did so almost right away and raised his hand to play along with John, adding to his song and turning the basic tune in a somewhat playful duet. He didn’t miss the way John’s smile widened at that. He loved watching John play, seeing the pure love of music reflected in John’s eyes. The same love he saw when he was looking at him.

“Well,” Paul started as he shuffled closer to John so their legs were touching, wanting to feel him close after having thought about him almost all day, longed for him and his touch, “I heard from a special little bird that a certain Mr Brian Epstein wants to talk to you about your band and potentially wants to manage it.” It took a while before the words seemed to sank it, but when they did, John’s hands froze and their play was rudely interrupted.

“Manage?” He asked as he turned to stare at Paul with wide eyes and a surprised smile on his face, not believing what he was saying. Paul only nodded at him, his hands stilling as well.

“You’re fucking with me!” John accused, and this time, when Paul shook his head, John gasped, hands shooting up to cover his mouth in shock.

“Now, it’s not certain yet,” Paul said quickly, not wanting John to freak out while nothing was yet certain, “George told me and for all I know he could have misunderstood, but apparently Brian has been listening in one a couple of your gigs and he’s been liking what he has heard and now he wants to talk with you.”

“Oh my god! You’re fucking joking!” John said again, and this time Paul laughed as he shook his head. The next thing he knew, John was on him, pressing his lips fiercely against his and cupping his head in both hands and pulling closer, making it impossible for Paul to pull away.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed as he pulled away, leaving Paul somewhat dumbfounded as he stared down at the piano keys, eyes wide and jaw slack as his brain still worked to process it all.

“When does he want to talk?” He asked.

“Next Friday. After the gig at the Cavern.”

“Fucking hell, you’re wonderful, Paul!” John exclaimed, making Paul both laugh and blush at the same time as John turned to look at him again.

“I didn’t do anything, John! I’m just the messenger!” He exclaimed, but John shook his head.

“You’re still wonderful.” He said and leaned in for another kiss. This time Paul was a lot quicker to comply and kissed back just as eagerly, feeling happy for the younger boy that finally something seemed to go right for him. Perhaps not everything was going wrong. He would have the love of this wonderful woman and John would get his chance at being famous. Like Elvis.

            Neither of the men even heard any footsteps approach, until the door to the living room door was pulled open again, causing the two men to pull away quickly and John nearly tumbled from his seat and onto the floor. Paul couldn’t help but laugh at that and moved to help John back up. Thankfully, they had pulled away just in time.

“Well, well, what’s happening here! What’s all this noise about?” Julia asked as she stepped into the living room. As soon as John heard his mother’s voice, he turned to her with a huge smile on his face.

“I’m getting a manager!” He exclaimed and Paul chuckled against as he shook his head.

“You _might_  be getting a manager.” He reminded John, before he turned to Julia, who was looking more confused than excited, her eyes darting from her son to Paul and back to her son again, a soft frown decorating her forehead, “Brian Epstein told George he liked John and his band and wanted to talk to him. Nothing is certain yet, but it certainly is good.”

“Oh! But John, that’s wonderful, dear! I’m so happy for you. When is he coming?” She asked as she started to take of her coat. She was smiling now, but Paul could still see that frown on her forehead, which puzzled him.

“He will speak to John after Friday’s gig. Are you… are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh yes. I’m great. That’s great, John. I say, let’s get something to drink to celebrate. Come on, Paul, help me with the shopping, would you?” She asked, but Paul wasn’t completely convinced, which made him wonder if she had seen anything. But she couldn’t have? Right? They had broken apart on time, hadn’t they? They must have.

“Yes, dear. John, get us three glasses, yeah?” He said as he stood up. Julia ruffled her son’s hair and leaned in to kiss his cheek, before disappearing into the kitchen. Paul followed her with his eyes, but she did seem genuinely happy and the frown had disappeared. Perhaps he had just been imagining it. Or it had still been a little confusement. Yes, that had to be it.

He was about to follow her, when John grabbed his hand and pulled him in for one last kiss as he muttered a “I love you” against his lips, making Paul smile and whisper it back to him, before leaving him to help Julia. Yes, maybe this was a good thing.


	24. Chapter 24

It was difficult to contain his excitement as he stepped into the school hall, his heavy bag slung over his shoulder and Paul’s leather jacket zipped up all the way to his throat to shield him from the chilly weather, which did not yet seem willing to drift over and make way for Spring. Ever since Paul had told him Brian Epstein wanted to talk to him about being his manager, he had not been able to push the thought from his mind. Even when Paul had come to his room that evening and had initiated sex, he hadn’t been able to let himself go and in the end they had simply spend the evening talking about that rather than having sex. He was just too excited.

Of course, nothing was yet certain. Paul had reminded him of that too many times already yesterday. It was just a talk. There was even a possibility that George had understood wrong and it was about something else entirely. Not that John knew what Brian Epstein would want with him. He didn’t even know him. At least, not really. He had seen him around a few times and he knew his mother knew him as he often came around for coffee where she worked, but he only knew him from that music shop he owned, or rather, his family owned. So really, him wanting to be his manager was the only logical explanation.

He dropped his bag by his locker with a loud thud, and looked around to see if anyone interesting was around as he unlocked his locker. After all, classes would not start for another fifteen minutes, which meant he was going to have to amuse himself in some way before class. And he couldn’t wait to tell the others about Brian, either. They would be just as excited as he was; he just knew it. He could feel it. He could-

“Boo!”

John jumped almost a foot in the air as he grabbed the door of his locked with a hand in panic to steady himself. As soon as he had overcome his initial fear, he turned around and glared at his best mate who was grinning smugly from ear to ear, obviously amused that his stupid, childish little prank had worked.

“Fuck, Stu. You’re horrible.” He growled at him, but Stuart only laughed at him. 

“I can’t believe that worked.” He said, still laughing, slapping John on the back in a brotherly fashion. John, however, narrowed his eyes at him, before turning to his locker and picking up his bag to put some stuff away. It did not have the effect John had hoped it would, as Stuart’s laughter only died down to an amused chuckle as he leaned against the lockers besides John’s. The younger man decided to ignore his friend and put away some of his books, before dropping his bag right on Stuart’s foot. He gasped in fake surprise when Stuart cursed in slight pain.

“Now, that was uncalled for.” Stuart hissed as he rubbed his foot the best as he could through his leather boots to sooth the pain.

“Was it?”

“Yes. But I shouldn’t have expected any differently from you. Fucking git.”

“Yeah, love you too, dear.” John muttered as he began to take off his coat. He paused as he realised what he said and glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye, swallowing as he saw the uncomfortable look on his face. Ever since that incident with the kiss, things had changed between them, if only slightly, but it were remarks like that one that always made Stuart a bit uncomfortable. Unlike before. John couldn’t really blame him. He’d be freaked out too if he were straight in his gay friend would suddenly kiss him. It’s just not the same anymore. Still, John wished it didn’t have to be different. After all, it wasn’t like he had really _liked_  Stuart. Not that way, at least. Not like he liked Paul.

“Right.” Stuart said after a moment that had seemed longer than it could have been, breaking the awkward silence between them, “You’ve got PE after lunch, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Are you per chance in the need of an excuse to skip it? I heard you’ll be running today.” Stuart asked, grinning knowingly at his friend. It was no secret John hated running. Not that John liked any of what he was supposed to do in PE, but running he had always hated most. It made him feel inadequate. He wasn’t slow, and he could run if he wanted to, but what was the point?! They weren’t even running anywhere or from something! It was just bullshit, and the worst was that he always came in last because of it. He needed that purpose, damn it. besides, he felt god damn awful afterwards. Interested, he turned his head to Stuart, and nodded, eager to hear what he had in mind.

“You see, I asked Richie to meet me for lunch this afternoon. In that little old shed behind the school. I have a little something to celebrate, so I hid some booze and ciggies there for us to help with that. Interested?”

“What are we celebrating?” John asked, curious, seeing as it wasn’t even near his friend’s birthday yet (he had forgotten it too often not to know when it was).

“Ah, ah! I’m not telling you yet. It’s a surprise.”

“Stu.”

“Oh, alright. I really need to tell someone, anyway. It’s just… Well… I er… I got accepted.”

“Accepted?” John asked, not really getting what his friend was going on about. When he saw the excited little smile twitching on his friend’s lips, as he nodded, however, something clicked.

“No! You don’t mean-”

“Yes! They want me!”

“You’re going to Germany!”

“I am! It’s going to be great! Can you imagine, John? Me! To Hamburg. To go to art school! I can hardly believe it. They say that as long as I pass this year, I can come!” Stuart exclaimed, smiling broadly now. Even his eyes sparkled with joy at the prospect of actually going to Hamburg to study art there. John smiled at his friend and grabbed him by his shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug, knowing how much this meant to his friend; how long he had been waiting and how scared he had been that they wouldn’t want him. But he’d done it and John almost felt as happy for Stuart as Stuart for himself.

“Of course, I can! You’re a fucking wonderful artist. Why wouldn’t they want to have yo?! You already sold one painting after all. That’s as much as Van Gogh in his lifetime!” John said as Stuart hugged him back. His friend let out a laugh at that and pulled away from John.

“Thanks, mate.” He said and John nodded.

“You know. I actually have some exciting news myself.” He said as he shrugged off Paul’s jacket and carefully laid it in his locker. He could see Stuart watching him curiously. “Brian Epstein wants to talk about the band and potentially managing it.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I really am not,” John said and Stuart’s jaw almost fell open at that, “He wants to meet me this Friday to talk about it. After the gig. I don’t know exactly what he wants but, God! It would be amazing, wouldn’t it!”

“Yes! Wow, John. I almost feel bad for leaving the band now. I mean I can hardly do it while in Germany…”

“Oh, Stu. Don’t worry about it. You always were a painter, not a bass player. I’ll find someone else.” John said quickly and Stuart smiled at that.

“Thanks, John.”

“Sure. Now, come on. Class’s about to start.” John said as he picked up his bag and locked his locker. Stuart nodded and followed John as he started to walk to their first class: English. John felt the need to wrap his arm around his friend’s shoulder, but refrained, knowing how it would look. So, instead, he bumped his shoulder into Stuart’s, catching his attention.

“You are inviting me to Hamburg, right?” He asked as he looked down at the floor, feeling slightly embarrassed about asking it. Stuart, however, nodded “yes” without as much as a second of thought.

“Of course! I expect you to come with me when I leave in August to help me settle in. Oh, and if you want I can put in a word for you with my landlord. Maybe you can take my flat, seeing as I won’t be needing it and I did kind of promise you could move in after your mum and Paul got married.”

“Thanks, Stu. And of course I’ll come. I’m not going to just leave you, you know. You’re my mate.” He answered right away and Stuart smiled at that as he nodded. He bumped back as a “thank you”. John understood. He’d be scared too if he was supposed to go to a strange city in a strange land alone and without any help. Of course, he’d come with him to help him through that the first couple of days.

            It was still rather early in the afternoon when John came home. After PE (which he had thankfully passed drinking and smoking with Stu and Richie), he only had had his calligraphy class, which he had with Cynthia. She had been just as excited to hear the news about Brian as he, but they hadn’t been able to talk much about it, as the teacher had separated them  as soon as he saw they were sitting together, and after class Cynthia had had to rush to her English class. Not that John had really minded. He was happy enough to go home and play some guitar and perhaps continue, and hopefully finally finish, that song he was writing. It was taking him much longer than he had wanted. Paul always made it seem so easy.  

Someone who hadn’t been as excited about the news as he had expected, was Ringo. He had been excited at first, but pretty quickly after, he had grown a bit cold. Apprehensive, maybe. Distant. He had smiled, but his smiles had seemed forced. He had laughed, but it hadn’t sounded genuine. He had made jokes, but they hadn’t been as well-timed as they normally were. He had sat further away from them, too, and said less. It had been strange, but when John had asked him if anything was up, he had simply said no and looked at him as if he couldn’t fathom why John would ask such a thing. He hadn’t asked any further. Maybe he was just not feeling well. Or maybe he was tired. Or it just took a while for him to let it sink in. Still, he had thought Ringo would be a bit more excited about it. Seeing as this could be there way to the top. Like they had always wanted. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten laid for a while. He knew what that could do to him.

John put away his stuff as he listened closely to hear if anyone was home yet. He knew Paul wouldn’t be, and neither would Jules be, seeing as both of them still had school until at least three or four, and it was only half past two in the afternoon. But his mother, she should be home. Or at least, she wouldn’t be at work. That didn’t necessarily mean she was at home, though. She could be doing some grocery shopping or visiting Mimi, as she did from time to time. He couldn’t hear anything, meaning she was either not home or upstairs. He took off Paul’s coat and hung it carefully on a peg, knowing Paul would be angry if he didn’t look after it. Honestly, he had been surprised when Paul had allowed him to wear it again. He suspected it was something of a possessive nature, knowing Paul. He was more than happy to wear it. Not only did it look amazing, it _smelled_  of Paul too. Warm and comfortable of sandalwood and oranges. Perhaps a little like a forest after a long rainfall. Calm and soothing and fresh, but also sexy in a way. Or maybe that was just the knowledge that it was Paul.

Shrugging off his ridiculous thoughts, he picked up his heavy bag again and went to stumble up the stairs. He’d get something to drink and eat later, as if didn’t feel like either. He just wanted to play a little. He still kept an ear out for his mother and when he finally heard some rumbling upstairs, he quickened his pace. He was just in time to see his mother coming out of his room.

“John! You’re home. How was your day?” Julia asked, sounding a little surprised that he was there, despite the fact that he always came home around this time. He studied her briefly before answering. She seemed busy, carrying a basket that she used the for clean laundry. She had a slightly flush on her cheekbones and her hair was slightly ruffled- probably from working so hard. Over all, though, there didn’t seem to be anything off about her.

“It was fine. What er… what were you doing in my room.” John asked, taking in his mother’s features as she smiled at him.

“Oh, I was just putting some clothes away for you. I washed your favourite pair of jeans if you want to wear it. I left it on your bed. You can put it away yourself, can’t you?” She said as he pulled the basket a bit higher up in her arms with a puff. It looked heavy. John walked up the last couple of steps and leaned forward to kiss his mother on the cheek as an hello.

“Thank you.” He said and she smiled back before moving to walk away. John followed her curiously, unsure if she had been telling the truth. Especially, concerning everything he kept in his room. Paul’s photos, his poems and stories, his half-finished songs, the woman’s underwear… He always felt nervous whenever she was in his room. What if she accidentally found something? He grasped the doorknob and pulled open his door. When he looked inside, he indeed saw a stack of clothes on his bed. Everything else seemed to be untouched and left where he had last put them. He looked behind himself to see if his mother was out of sight. When he saw her walking down the stairs, still carrying her laundry, he quickly went inside and checked his clothes, desk and bed to see if anything was amiss. He sighed in relief when everything seemed to be the same. Or at least-

“Do you want a cup of tea, John?” Julia shouted up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes, please!” John called back, momentarily distracted from what he had been doing. He put his pillow back down over the photos of Paul as a young man and put his bag down besides his desk with a sigh. Everything was still the same. He fixed his hair in the mirror and looked around his room one last time with a single glance, before he went downstairs to have tea with his mother.

            John slowly descended the stairs, trying to act as natural as possible so his mother wouldn’t become suspicious and have a good look around his room anyway. He wasn’t sure how he could explain some of the things he had hidden in his room. Not in a way that would please his mother anyway.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, his mother ushered him to sit down and placed a steamy mug of milky tea in front of him within two or three seconds. John frowned as his mother quickly made tea for herself as well, before she sat down in front of him, leaning forward a little over the table. Instinctively, John leaned back a little and wrapped his fingers around the hot mug, warming them from the cold. He looked down into his tea as well, as he stirred it with his other hand, watching the circles as they moved in the cup. He just stared, happy as long as he didn’t have to look his mother in the eye.

“How was your day, John?” Julia asked as he took a careful sip from her tea. It was too hot and she tensed briefly in shock, before she put her tea back down to cool. John occasionally glanced up to see what she was doing. But she didn’t do much. She only sat there, her fingers playing leisurely with the teaspoon in the mug as she waited for an answer.

“It was fine.” Was the answer she was giving. She smiled and nodded at that. “I told Stu, Richie and Cyn about Brian Epstein.”

“Did you? Let me guess, they were just as excited as you were?” She asked, still smiling and John nodded as he continued to study her. Something was off in the way she was acting, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe he was only being paranoid, because he had thought she had been going through his stuff, which had turned out not to be true either. But still, he felt something about her was off. Different.

“You know, you never bring anyone home anymore. I can hardly remember the last time you brought Cynthia home. Or any other nice girl.” She said and John tried to control the temperature on his cheeks as he looked down at his tea again. He always felt awkward whenever his mother would bring up girlfriends or love or anything like marriage and kids, knowing one day he was going to have to disappoint her.

“Cynthia is not my girlfriend, Mum. We’re just friends, remember?”

“Oh, I know. But you never even bring any girl home. You know you can right? I’d love to meet her. If she exists, of course.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Mum.”

“Really? How is it possible my handsome man doesn’t have a row of girls lined up for him, eh?”

“No one has caught my eye recently. Besides, I’m busy enough for school and the band.” John said, shrugging and hoping his mother would drop the subject sooner rather than later. Before Paul, he would bring girls home, date them and even have sex with them. It wasn’t that he really wanted anything with them, but he still liked them. But for sex. As company. Nothing serious. With guys, however, that was different. With Paul it was different.

“Are you sure, John? No one? But there are plenty of pretty and clever girls. And what about Cynthia? I know you two are not together, but she seems like a good match for you, right?”

“Mum. We’re just friends and I don’t feel that way about her, but even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. She’s engaged, remember?” John said, faking a laugh. His mother sighed, however.

“I know… It’s just such a shame you never bring anyone home anymore. What about that last girl you brought home. Beth, was it?”

“We broke up, Mum. Really, I’m fine and I don’t even want a girlfriend right now. I know you like it when I bring people home and I will, but you do not have to set me up for it, okay?” John said, a little more snappy than he would have liked. Still, his mother either didn’t seem to notice or care. She only nodded and sighed once more in defeat.

“I just want you to be happy.” She said, looking up at him and John swallowed thickly at that, feeling his guilt coming back up.

“I am happy.” He said, even though he couldn’t quite believe it yet himself. He took a sip from his tea.

            Paul’s heartbeat was calm and steady as he listened to it. They were lying in John’s single bed again, as it had almost become routine for them. He had his fingers tangled into John’s hair as he played with it and his nose buried in it, taking in his scent. John smiled at the gently touch, massaging Paul’s shoulders and chest with his hands as he listened, feeling himself slowly drifting off. If only he could let go and fall into that peaceful slumber. No such luck however. The events with his mother were still clear and vivid in his mind, making it impossible for him to sleep.

“Paul?” He asked, needing to get out it and hear Paul tell him what he already knew himself but couldn’t quite believe. The older man hummed and slowly opened his eyes to look down at the younger lad, as John rolled onto his stomach to look up at him. “Do you think Julia could suspect something. About us?”

“What do you mean about us?” Paul asked, frowning. John sighed and let his head rest once again on Paul’s comfortable chest as he spoke.

“Us. This. I- I saw her coming out of my room this afternoon. What if she saw anything?” He asked, subconsciously pulling Paul close to him. The older man wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Right away, John already felt better.

“Did she? Did she say anything?”

“No… it was just this… this feeling… I know it sound stupid-”

“John, dear, it’s normal to be worried. Keeps us alert.” Paul said, but John shook his head.

“It’s different this time.” He said, “she was asking me about a girlfriend as well. Why I wouldn’t bring anyone home, anymore. For a bit it even sounded like she wanted to set me up with someone!” John said.

“And now you want to start taking girls home again?” Paul asked, his heart speeding up, letting John know he was slightly afraid of the answer. Not that he had anything to fear. John shook his head.

“Of course not,” He said and right away Paul let out a sigh of relief, “I’m just worried, you know. What if she ever finds out? What if she finds something? What if she realised I’m queer?”

“She won’t and if she does, we’ll figure it out then. John, she has no reason to suspect anything. If we start acting differently now, that will be only more suspicious!”

“I know! I’m just… scared… She doesn’t even know I’m queer! It would ruin everything for the both of us.”

“It won’t happen, John. _I_  won’t let that happen. We can keep an eye out, if that will make you more comfortable, but it is probably nothing. Okay? John?” Paul asked, smiling soothingly at John. When John finally gave in and nodded, Paul cupped his cheek in the palm of his hand and pulled him closer for a kiss. John went willingly, moaning softly into Paul’s mouth. He even giggled when Paul rolled them over so he was on top and John down.

            John stared up at Paul as he felt a press of the man’s thigh between his. Right away he let them fall apart and allowed Paul to lie between them. Paul kissed him again, but this it was only brief and before John knew what was going on, Paul had pushed his legs even further apart and had crawled between them and down to his crotch. The man looked up to lock eyes with him and licked his bottom lip seductively before he cupped John’s soft cock in his palm and gave him an experimental squeeze. Right away, John’s brain faltered and he let out a soft groan.

Spreading his legs even wider, John begged Paul closer and the latter took the invitation and lowered himself, his face, to his crotch, sliding his body down over John’s and the bed, until he was face to face with John’s growing cock. He squeezed again and John gasped. He wanted to open his eyes. To beg, but before he even had the chance, Paul had leaned down and was wetly sucking at John’s erection through his underwear as he started to pull it off his skin, bit by bit, until it was finally pulled down and his cock jutted free.

Before John had the time to speak, Paul leaned down and took him into his mouth, guiding the shaft past his teeth, in his mouth, over his tongue and down his throat. John let out a soft whimper and raised his hand to suckle at a finger or two himself as Paul went down on him, sucking at him and licking him, until he stood erect and leaking. He pulled off with a pop and bit down John’s thigh to catch his attention.

“Try to be quiet.” He whispered, his voice already rough, but John wasn’t sure what he meant. A blowjob was good, but not that good that he would have trouble keeping still. His doubts were quickly resolved when Paul, instead of taking John’s cock into his mouth again, lowered his mouth even further and angled John’s hips up slightly to expose his pucker. John, who had noticed now something was going to be different, started to sit up, but before he even had the chance, Paul had gone back down on him. But this time it wasn’t his cock. This time it was his arse.

He licked deliberately over John’s hole, feeling how the ring fluttered under his touch, strange, but not unfamiliar. John let out a weak yelp at the sudden touch. _There,_  where he would never dream to put his mouth. But Paul was doing just that. Just like so many weeks ago when they had done it on the piano. It felt just as good, just as strange and just as intimate. He threw his head back as Paul started to lick circles over the rim of his opening, pulling it to stretch with his tongue, bit by bit, teasing and giving pleasure at the same time. John let out a huge gasp, however, when Paul leaned in all the way and pressed his lip fully against John’s pucker and licked into it. Hard and firm, his tongue swirled around the rim, wetting it, as the tip searched entrance and finally got it. Or took it, it felt more right. He yelped when Paul’s tongue wiggled its way inside and started to lick there. There of all places. Unsanitary places, but Paul didn’t seem to care.

John groaned and his body shuddered as Paul pressed his tongue further inside and stretched him even further open. His hands shot downwards to pull at Paul’s hair as he worked. Paul groaned at the touch and weakly thrusted his hips down into the bed for friction. The sight, so filthy with Paul’s face pressed to his arse and his arse rubbing up and down on his bed, made John’s head swim and pretty soon he had to start biting down his finger to stop himself from making too much noise. After all, they couldn’t wake any one.

Paul’s tongue went even further. Impossibly deep. Deeper than what John had thought to be physically possible, and the tip brushed against his prostrate, causing John to clamp down around him as he breathed out Paul’s name, begging so for more. Paul, aroused by John’s state, moved a hand down and stuffed it into his trousers to touch himself as he pleased John, feeling himself react as well. He gasped and jerked as his fingers wrapped around his heated member  and shuddered as he started to jerk himself off.

Finally, John felt his own orgasm approach and he quickly started pulling at Paul’s hair again as a warning. to his surprise, John sucked harshly once more, making John tremble as he danced on the edge of his climax. He groaned when Paul’s mouth was suddenly around his cock again, suck firmly and with purpose as he jerked himself in the same fashion at the same time. John let him, breathing out little groaning and moans for Paul to enjoy as he thrusted up into Paul’s face and started to gently fuck his throat. Paul let him, but soon, too soon, John’s orgasm came rippling through him, and with only a few more sucks from Paul’s skilful mouth, he let out a weak mewl and came into Paul’s mouth, who swallowed it all down eagerly. He came not soon after, exhausted and tired by his endeavours to please both John and himself at the same time. He gasped and quickly pressed his lips against John’s again as he came into his own hand. Catching it up easily as he licked into John’s mouth, letting him taste himself as he curled his tongue around John’s and suckled on it. When he had come down from his orgasm, he pulled his hand out of his briefs and raised it to John’s lips as he lifted himself up and crawled over to John.

His fingers hadn’t even yet touched John’s lips, or they opened for him and his little pink tongue came darting out to taste. He groaned as he swallowed a drop and without further encouragement he sucked Paul’s fingers into his mouth to clean them, two at the time, as Paul leaned down to kiss him everywhere else; his neck, his chest, his throat, his chin, his cheek, his forehead, his collarbone, his ear, his temples, until finally, when his hand was once again clean, his lips.  

            “Happy again?” Paul asked as he broke the kiss and John let out a deep sigh as he curled his arms around Paul’s body and pulled him closer as he nodded.

“Very much so.” He replied with a cheeky wink that made Paul chuckle.

“You know…” The older man spoke as he laid back down with John, letting him curl up by his side as he embraced him and kissed his temples, “Next time… I’d like to do something different. Something more… daring.”

“What did you have in mind?” John asked and Paul chuckled at the enthusiasm that dripped off his voice. John was always in to try anything and Paul liked that about him. Still, he felt nervous about this. It was more… personal than anything they had talked about that related to sex.

“Well,” he spoke, burying his face in the crook of the other man’s neck before he continued to talk, “How about that tie you used as a blindfolds. And perhaps some other ways to tie a person up? To restrain them and have fun until it lasts.” Paul smiled weakly, and John stared down at him for a while as his brain progressed this. Then, he nodded.

“Oh please…” He said, sounding honestly like he was pleading. Smirking, Paul nodded.

“Good. We shall do that the next time we have a dark, quite night for ourselves.” He said and John couldn’t help but scoff.

“As if that is ever going to happen.” He said, still laughing at the suggestion. Paul, however, only grinned back, making John’s laughter die down before it was replaced by a curious frown. “I kind of want to take you on holiday in a few weeks. To Scotland.”

“Scotland?” John asked, both curious and excited, yet confused.

“I know it’s not Paris and it wouldn’t be just the two of us, seeing as Jules and Julia will have to come as well, but I hope it will give us some privacy to be together more. You know, now we can”

“You wanted to take me to Paris?” John asked, chuckling and Paul nodded.

“Sadly, Julia might want to go there for… you know what. But Scotland is fun too. I could teach you how to ride.”

“But I know already,” John muttered, grinning, “I can show you in about fifteen minutes if you can wait a little.” John shot him a cheeky wink, that made Paul both blush and laugh. He shook his head and kissed John’s lips again briefly, before he pulled away.

“However, tempting, I meant a horse. It will be fun!” Paul said and John thought about it for a minute, before a smile crept onto his face and he nodded.

“Okay.” He said and Paul kissed him again.

“Good. And remember. We’ll be fine. Julia won’t find out.” He muttered against John’s lips and with renewed energy, John kissed him back, licking across his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth, everywhere he could reach, to claim. Just to claim. Paul was his. Just as he was Paul’s.

* * *

 

Now Friday was finally here, John was happy to note that better weather was too. All the snow had now completely melted away and a watery sun was slowly warming up the awakening earth; the birds were chirping, water was once again running down the streams and the first flowers were eagerly popping up from the soil. There was once again dew on the grass in the early morning, rather than frost, and John watched in silence as the small insects crawled up from their holes to explore this new, yet familiar, world. At the moment a curious little ladybug was making its way up a bowing blade of grass. John reached out gently for it with his fingers, not wanting to startle the poor thing and cause it to fly away, and carefully let the bug walk onto his finger. Smiling, he had it up to the sun, blew lightly, and watched as it flew off. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and made a wish. He knew it was silly - nothing more than a stupid superstition - but there was no harm in trying, was there?

Sighing, he rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head as he looked up at the blue sky. He could not wait for spring to fully set in. It was still chilly and he still had to wear a scarf to shield himself from the cold, as well as his winter coat, while he wished he could simply lay in the grass without them. But after all is was only barely March; they were lucky enough with the weather as it was.

“What about bungee jumping?”

“What?” John asked, turning his head to his friend in confusion. Stuart was lying next to him, their bodies only a few inches apart, looking up at the sky with a light frown on his face, which was only just visible beneath his signature sunglasses.

“Bungee jumping. For my list.”

“Of worst ways to die?”

“No! Of what I want to do before I go to Germany!”

“And you want to put bungee jumping on there?!” John asked, fearing his friend was actually serious.

“Why not?” Stuart asked as he sat up and turned to look down at John, “People are doing it, so there must be something about it that is fun, right?”

John scoffed. “I can’t for the life of me imagine what might be fun about jumping to your death, only to be pulled up and thrown down again with only a bit of string to keep you from actually killing yourself.”

“Which is exactly why I should try it! It’s the only way to find out what’s so appealing about it!”

“Stu, dear, it’s a list of things you’d like to do before going to Germany, not before you fucking die!”   
Stuart fell silent at that and looked down at the blades of grass between his fingers as he thought it over in his head. John watched him attentively, wondering what his life would be like when Stuart would not be with him anymore. Of course, he was going to visit him, but Stuart and him had been mates for so long, he could hardly remember what he did before he met him in his free time. He never had a mate like Stuart before; someone who just knew him and took him the way he was and with whom he could share anything; with whom he could have fun and never get bored, but with whom he could also talk and just sit in silence for a while.

He was going to miss him, he knew he was, but he couldn’t be angry at him for it. Stuart needed this, had longed for an opportunity, and the lad was so talented and such a hard worker, John felt the need to encourage him and stand by his side like a true friend. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d be truly alone. He still had Cynthia and Ringo. But if would be easier if he didn’t have to say goodbye to Paul at the same time, as well.

“Okay, you’re right. What do you expect I should put on my list, then?” Stuart asked with a sigh as he laid himself back down on the grass, turning his head to look John straight in the eye. John shrugged.

“I don’t know! It’s your list!” he said and paused to think, “What about pulling that bird you’ve been longing after for so long?” A faint blush spread over his friend’s cheek, as he quickly looked away from John and back up at the sky.

“What bird?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the waver in his voice gave him away, not that John wouldn’t have known he was lying without obvious indication. He knew his friend too long for him to be able to lie to him about things like that.

“Oh don’t start that! You know very well whom I’m talking about here! Aubrey! The girl with the pretty brown eyes, high ponytail and the big tits! You’ve been staring at her since the beginning of last year!” The flush on Stu’s cheeks only became worse at his words, making John chuckle in amusement.

“She wouldn’t like me, anyway.” Stuart mumbled, still refusing to look at John.

“Why not? She’s practically begging you to pull her onto your knee, kiss her and pull hair down. I bet those raven locks would look gorgeous if she wore it loose. And she likes artists.”

“She wouldn’t like a short little guy like me.” Stuart sighed, and whereas normally John would make fun of him for his insecurities (especially because he had nothing to be insecure about. Sure the guy was short, but he was still good-looking!), he now realised this wasn’t the time.

“Stu, you’re looking fine the way you are. You shouldn’t be so insecure. Just give it a shot. Besides, if she refuses, you’ll be gone in a few months. And maybe she likes gnomes, you don’t know!” John said, chuckling at his own little joke. Thankfully, Stuart laughed as well, and his face seemed to relax.

“You’re right. Maybe I should give it a try.”

“Yeah! Besides, it’s clear she likes you. She’s never as interested in people’s paintings as she is in yours, and I doubt that’s all just your talent.” John said with a little wink and Stuart chuckled again, before nodding.

“Thanks, John,” he said with a little smile, “now, enough about me. How are things between you and your girl, eh?”

This time it was John’s turn to flush. He cleared his throat and shrugged as he tried his best not to look like a complete love-struck sap. It was bad enough that Paul could make him feel that way, he didn’t need to have other people know about those feelings as well. Stuart, however, already knew of course, and he was already snickering at his reaction at the mention of his much older lover. Thankfully, John didn’t have to answer that question, because he wasn’t sure what would have come out of his mouth if he had opened it.

“You’re really quite crazy about him, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” John asked, trying to sound light-hearted about it.

“I’ve never seen you act like this about anyone before, is all. You really love him.”

John couldn’t help but smile at that last. He did. He loved him. He wasn’t even afraid anymore to admit it. It was the truth. A sad truth, but a truth nonetheless.

“Does he love you back?”

“Yes, he does.” John softly replied, feeling his cheeks heat up even more. But the wonderful gooey feeling was quickly replaced by a coldness and sadness, that wipes John’s smile of his face. “But it’s not going to work.”

“You don’t know. There might be a way. Perhaps-“

“I thought you didn’t approve?” John asked with a knowing grin.

“I did say once that I would support you. Even if I will never understand why you would want to date someone who’s that much older than you.”

“Thanks, Stu. But there is no way for us. But it’s probably for the best,” John said, genuinely thankful to have a friend like Stu, and looked up at the sky as the sun suddenly disappeared behind a thick cloud. With the warmth of the sun gone, it was suddenly incredibly chilly where they were lying on the damp grass, so John got up and held out a hand for Stu. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s go find a place to warm up in before the gig. Want a pint? My pay.”

“Thanks, John. But you don’t have to pay. Although a beer does sound good.” Stuart said as he accepted John’s hand and let himself be pulled up onto his feet.

“You can just see it as a good-bye gift. No arguing. Come on. I’m getting cold.”

            Paul sat with his hands in his hair as he stared at the many, many letters in front of him on the kitchen table. His hand was exhausted from writing and he couldn’t wait to get all the announcement letters out of the house. For most people, the news of his and Julia’s wedding wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, as they had already told their closest family members and of course some friends, who would then of course have shared the news, but it was only polite to send a proper announcement with the date of the wedding.

Julia had spent ages in the shop, trying to find the right ones, but Paul had to admit they were pretty. They were of an off-white carton-like paper, with beautifully elegant types letter on the front. A band of lace was tied around each card with a beautiful flat bow to top it off. At first, Paul had felt nervous to write on them, but had quickly gotten used to it. At first he had suggested to use a type writer, but Julia thought a hand-written card was more personal. Still, there were quite a few of them, especially now they had decided to have the reception not at home but at a hotel, as it would be quite a bit of work, which meant they could invite more people. His hand had started to complain after the first fifteen cards, but now, after having written almost thirty-five of them, he had to stop. But there were still so many more to write, and frankly, he just wanted to get them done.

He reached for his cup of tea and took a sip. He had been working on them from the moment he had gotten home from work, which much have been more than an hour ago. He was writing with extreme precision of course, not wanting to mess them up, which meant he was progressing slowly, but with the last few it had been difficult to keep up that precision. Maybe it was best to have a break. Perhaps Julia would help him finish the last ones after she would be back from Pattie’s (they had been going through hair styles for the ceremony, something Paul was glad he didn’t have to be part of). The more he was busy with the wedding, however, the more excited he became. Whereas before it had only been a faint idea, now it was truly beginning to take shape in his head, and he could only imagine how wonderful that day was going to be for them, considering the circumstances. It helped that George and Julia were excited about it, too, of course. George was happy enough to help him and couldn’t shut up about it during breaks at school, and was already pressuring him for shopping for a suit and rings and decide on the right music and the flowers (being the gardener that he was), and slowly Paul was starting to take over some of his excitement, even if he still wanted to postpone the shopping for a suit as long as possible, knowing he was going to be eager to be wearing it once he had it.

It was still difficult for him to give himself over to the idea completely, though, the thought of leaving John still nagging at him. But there was no other way, and he did truly love Julia. John deserved better than him. Someone of his own age, someone with whom he could share the rest of his life, and didn’t have to look after to when he had gotten too old. And if Brian Epstein really did want to manage him, they wouldn’t have time for each other, anyway. John could become famous, which would be wonderful of course, but it would also mean that he would be busy working, travelling, touring, recording. He would visit all those strange countries, men and women would throw themselves before his feet… They would grow apart anyway, and in the end they would have to end things anyway. Or worse, they would be found out about. No, this was for the best.

He glanced up at the clock as he heard the front door open and fall shut again, and was surprised as he saw he had been working on the cards for longer than he had imagined. It was almost six o'clock already, making him wonder where Julia was, as he could hear by the sounds that were coming from the hall that it wasn’t his fiancée, but John who had come home. Which begged another question: why was John here? He was supposed to perform at The Cavern in an hour after all. For Brain Epstein. His fingers subconsciously tightened around the mug in his hand at the thought of John and Brian together, George’s words still fresh in his mind.

“Hi, Paul!” John greeted as he walked into the living room, running a hand through his hair to push it back into place. Paul turned to look at him and closed his eyes as John pressed a kiss to his lip as a greeting, already he felt better.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at The Cavern?” he asked when John pulled away from him. The younger man nodded and grasped an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Yeah. I was just wondering if you really didn’t want to come tonight.” He said as he took a bite, and Paul couldn’t help but smile at that, flattered that John would still think of him with something so important coming up.

“No. You should do this by yourself. I know Brian. He’s a good guy. You’ll be fine.”

John shrugged at that and took another bite as he opened the fridge, probably looking for more food to shove into his mouth, which made Paul wonder if he had eaten anything yet. Knowing John, he hadn’t.

“Rumour has it he’s queer.” John mumbled as he took his head out of the fridge.

“Really?” Paul asked, looking back at the card in front of him, just so he didn’t have to look at John while they were discussing that.

“Hmm. Not jealous, are you?” John asked, causing Paul to glance up at him briefly. The younger boy stood now before him at the other side of the table, looking at the cards as well. He picked one up to read, studying it as he turned it over a few times, before laying it back down with a telling sigh. When he looked up at Paul, the older man quickly looked down again, picking up his pen.

“No. Why would I?”

“Paul-“

“I’m not!” Paul said, a little too forcefully. He knew he had given himself away when he heard John chuckle, followed by the sound of his footsteps approaching.

“There is nothing to be jealous of, Macca. I love you, remember?” he told him as he leaned in to place another little kiss on his cheek. Paul nodded again.

“I know. I told you I wasn’t jealous.” He said again, but John merely smiled again at that and gently cupped Paul’s cheek in his hand and turned his face to him to kiss him properly again. Paul let him, smiling into the kiss and returning it sweetly.

“Of course you’re not,” John said after he broke the kiss, “I’m going to get my stuff. Stu’s waiting for me outside, so I mustn’t make him wait for too long.”

“No, you mustn’t.” Paul agreed, only to pull John back for another kiss, wanting to feel him for just a little while longer; it was rare, after all, they could be this way during the day. John snickered against his lips and indulged him for a moment, before really pulling away.

“I’ll see you tonight at the Cavern then.” He said teasingly and with one last wink, he turned around and walk away to the hall. Paul listened to him going up the stairs to his room, feeling lucky he had at least had the chance to be with John, even if it couldn’t last. When Paul finally realised what John had said, it was already too late and John had already pulled the front door shut behind him.

            Paul hated himself. He truly did. He hadn’t meant to come. Really hadn’t. But George’s words hadn’t left his mind since John had teased him about being jealous. He had no reason to be, had he? But he was worried. Just a little bit. After all, he did not know for sure what Brian’s intentions were with John. It was only natural, wasn’t it.

John and his band were still playing when Paul stepped into the dimly lit club. It was packed, as it was a Friday night, but with some difficultly, he managed to make his way across the room so he had a better view of both the stage and the crowd. John didn’t seem to have noticed him; he was enthusiastically singing into the mic, truly giving it his all, as he played Chuck Berry’s “Memphis Tennessee”. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, like always, and although John’s eyes landed on him a few times, the boy only frowned but never showed any signs of true recognition. It was quite cute really. He really was as blind as a bat and too proud to wear his glasses, despite the fact that he knew Paul thought he looked good in them. His eyes did rest on one particular spot from time to time, however, and Paul glanced over to see who he was looking it. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of him, Brian Epstein, listening attentively from the side of the club, near the entrance, wearing a proper suit as he watched the group perform. From his expression, Paul could not deduce what he was thinking of them exactly, as he looked mostly in serious thought, but that couldn’t be too bad, could it. Paul did notice, however, how often Brian would look at John more than the rest of the band.

The man had gotten older since Paul had last seen him some years ago before he left for London. Brian had only been in his late teens back then, and he had grown up to be a proper man, although he still looked a little awkward in a place like this, looking too posh for his own good in this place of Liverpool. Still, he wondered if that would do something for John? Would he like such a thing? He was being ridiculous, of course. John loved him and he had told him himself there was no reason to be jealous. He forced his hands to relax and took a couple of deep breaths as he looked back at the stage. His eyes met John’s right away and he raised his hand to let him know he was there. John smiled at the little gesture, recognising him now and winked at him. See, no reason to be jealous. There was reason to be cautious, though, with so many people around.

As it happened, that song seemed to have been the last one the band would be play and Paul turned back to look at Brian who was clapping along as John finished up the performance and bowed slightly at the audience. Brian eyes’ didn’t leave John as the boy got everything of his and finally jumped off the stage, his now unplugged guitar in hand. There was something in those eyes that Paul didn’t like. A shimmer. Barely visible, but enough for Paul to notice. He took another deep breath. He wasn’t going to be the jealous boyfriend. Not when he hadn’t even seen how John would react to the appreciative attention he would be getting. The younger man approached Brian, who smiled at him and offered him his hand as he said hello. John shook it, replying by saying his own name. Brian nodded and got his stuff as well as he nodded into the direction of the bar, clearly offering John a drink that… he accepted. Slightly disappointed, Paul followed them closely with his eye as they moved to the back of the club and took a seat at the bar. Brian ordered them a drink and paid for John’s as well, who thanked him with a faint blush on his cheeks, be it from the attention or the adrenalin from performing, Paul wasn’t quite sure. He watched the pair curiously as they started talking. Brian seemed civil enough, keeping a polite distance as he asked John questions and gave him room to talk. He didn’t look creepily at him, or tried to touch him in any way; the only spoke. Of what, Paul couldn’t hear, so he slowly moved closer to them, careful to stand out of view so they wouldn’t notice him.

Following the entire conversation word for word was impossible from where Paul was standing, but he was close enough to get a good impression on what they were talking about. From what he could deduce they were discussion John’s performances, and not only this one either, which seemed to prove that George had been right. Brian had been keeping an eye out for John and his band and was looking for a chance to manage them. He sounded truly enthusiastic, saying they had something  that just worked for him and that he had rarely heard before. Of course there were still things to be adjusted and improved upon, but they had a great basis, although there was something missing, too. To Paul’s surprise, John agreed with that, knowing not all of his band members were as talented and knowing they could improve a great deal. If they would receive help from the right person, of course. He smiled a little too flirtatiously at Brian as those words left his mouth, for Paul’s liking, but so far nothing too strange was going on. Perhaps John was right. Perhaps he had been overacting in his… erm… worry. After all, Brian was quite a few years older than John. He groaned when he realised how stupid that was. He was, after all, even older than Brian, so Brian’s age really wouldn’t bother John all too much.

It was clear, however, that Brian was thinking about John that way. It was easy to spot when you knew what to look for. He was leaning just a tad bit to close, looking John in the eye just a bit too long, mirroring his movements, laughing at everything little things John said that was even remotely funny,  glancing down to look at John’s lips as he spoke at little too often and touching him ever so lightly every once in a while. It wasn’t too obvious, but it was clear enough to make it clear that he liked John without being too forward. Instinctively, Paul stepped closer to the pair and narrowed his eyes as he watched for John’s responses. He couldn’t quite figure out what John was thinking of being hit on. He didn’t seem to encourage it, but he didn’t try to stop him or hint at the fact that he was taken, either. Sometimes, he even seemed to flirt back. But he surely wasn’t.

“Stuart’s quitting the band, though. The bass player. He is off to study in Germany. He is an artist.” Paul heard John say as he took another sip from the drink Brian had bought him and shuffled a little closer to the older man, allowing their feet to occasionally bump against each other. Paul felt a shock travel through his body as he saw Brian swallow thickly at that, before clearing his throat and answering.

“Well, I am sure we can find a er… suitable solution to that. He was not the best player in the world, after all, I am sorry to say.”

“Oh, that is okay. He isn’t . He is good enough as he is, but… he doesn’t mind it. He is an artist not a bass player,” John said, smiling back at Brian, possibly flirtatiously, possible to simply put him at ease. Paul wished he could believe it was the latter.

“Yes, that is good. I think we should have a good look at everyone and see who we can keep and who we might need to find someone else for. Your drummer is extraordinary, though. Is he left-handed?” Brian asked, trying to sound professional, but Paul could see how he turned his body more to John’s, so their legs were touching fully. John’s cheeks were still flushed.

“Yes, he is. Gives his drummer something special, you know. He’s a great mate, too. He is not usually late. He said he had some trouble with his girlfriend, but he is normally punctual.” John said and Brian nodded as he made some notes in his little book. Paul couldn’t help but feel a little proud of John for handling it all so well. His answers were slightly clumsy and it was clear he was nervous and trying really hard, but he looked sincere and eager, which he could only suppose was good. Paul supposed he could have handled it better, though.

“Oh, that is great, John. You and your band have great potential and I’d love to manage you, if you would have me, of course. We would need to make some agreements of course, and it will be hard work, but if you are ready for that, I’m here for you.” Brian said with a charming smile in his posh accent and raised his hand to lay it on John’s knee. But rather and turn his body away from Brian or refusing him, John let him touch him and smiled back at him. The older man’s hand squeezed the boy’s leg and they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, before John smiled back with a somewhat bashful “thank you”. Before Paul knew what he was doing exactly, he was already standing beside the two men, looking down at them. John spotted him first, which Paul supposed was something, but at the moment he was too busy controlling the urge to cut off Brian’s hand to note that down as something good.

“Paul! What are you doing here? I had thought I had seen you!” John exclaimed as he turned his body to Paul, causing Brian’s hand to slip off his knee, much to Paul’s delight. The older man looked up at Paul in surprise and frowned at his sudden appearance.

“Yes. Well, I was wondering how you two were getting on, of course! Hello, Brian. It has been a while,” he said, lying a protective hand on John’s shoulder.

“So it has.” Brian answered duly. Clearly, he was annoyed at him for interrupting his flirtation with the younger man. His eyes went from his face to his hand and back to his face again, where he faked a smile. Paul smiled back at him, before turning to John once more, who was watching him with a telling grin.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He asked, feigning innocence. Brian grumbled something, but got up from his seat in defeat as he gathered his stuff.

“Not at all,” he said, “John and I were just about done. John, go have a talk with your band about my offer. Also, discuss it with your parents. Here is my number. Just call me when you have any questions or need to talk.” Brian glanced curiously at Paul at the word “parents” and bid them goodbye before quickly taking off. John called a good-bye after him, smirking at his sudden haste to get away, but Paul was only glad when he was finally gone. John turned back around to look at Paul with a knowing grin as he took his arm and got up onto his feet as well.

“And you said you weren’t jealous.” He said in a mocking voice. Paul, however, shrugged, pretending there indeed wasn’t a greenish monster lurking in his mind.

“I wasn’t. I told you I just wanted to see how things were going.”

“Of course, you did. Now, come on, old man. Let’s go home, yeah? Before you might even hurt someone because they were looking at me for too long.”  John suggested, offering Paul his guitar, which the man took and slung over his shoulder to keep save.

“I wasn’t jealous, John.”

“But you are relieved he isn’t touching me anymore.”

“I am not. It’s all your choice.”

“Sure. But just so you know. I wasn’t going to let him do anything. I just wasn’t about to ruin my chances by refusing him you know. You’re still the only one for me, if it matters that much to you. I’m all yours.” John whispered to him, leaning closer as he took his arm and grabbed his coat and bag as he started to lead Paul out of the club.

“Good.” Paul couldn’t help but mutter, even if it was a terrible give away, but the smile on John’s face was still worth it.

“You were so jealous.” He muttered. Paul scoffed, but didn’t bring anything in against it anymore, much to John’s amusement. “I still love you.” He added and Paul blushed as he let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, John didn’t comment on it and merely walked them out of the club.

“So you don’t like him?“ Paul couldn’t help but ask, and John chuckled at that, before shaking his head and dragging  Paul off into a dark corner to kiss him swiftly on the lips.

"I only like you.”


	25. Chapter 25

John was teasing him. Paul knew he was. And yet he could not let it go. It was strange, really, how easy John could play him, how he had him wrapped around his finger and how he could make him do exactly what he wanted with the pull of a couple of strings. Paul knew very well that John didn’t fancy Brian, and even if he did, he wouldn’t do anything about it. He loved Paul, had told him so plenty of times and promised him he didn’t have to be jealous, but yet it bothered him that John went on and on about Brian to him and Julia. Every time Brian’s name fell from John’s lips, he felt his fingers twitch with the need to claim John and remind him with whom he belonged and who _truly_ loved him. And John knew that. He could see it. But did he care? Did he stop? No. He only teased him with it and watched in amusement as Paul tried to control himself.

He wasn’t a jealous person, which might be hard for anyone to believe at that moment, but he wasn’t. With John things were somehow different, though. John had managed to awaken parts of himself he hadn’t been fully aware existed. John had managed to crawl under his skin, push all of his buttons and tug on all of his strings and Paul was completely at his mercy. He didn’t want it any other way, though, if he were honest with himself.

His fingers moved sluggishly across the ivory keys of the small piano, mindlessly pressing keys and creating a sweet little tune that sounded vaguely familiar. He had tried to take his mind of John and Brian by working on the song he was writing, but it hadn’t worked. The pieces of paper that were scattered across the top of the piano were just as empty as they had been before he had started. He wasn’t even completely happy with the few lines he had already written down.

_Close your eye and I’ll kiss you  
_ _Tomorrow I’ll miss you  
_ _Remember I’ll always be true_

It was childish, naïve and overall rather cloying, especially with the upbeat happy tune he had imagined behind it, but no matter how hard he tried to change it, he always came back to this. He had tried turning it into a slow piano ballad, but it only got worse, so he had given up on that idea as well. Perhaps he was just being overly critical of himself, as he could be. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. He wondered if he should have John listen to it, but the thought made him blush and his fingers tremble for reasons he wasn’t comfortable with admitting, so that idea was thrown out of the window together with the ballad one.

Sighing, he shifted his hands into the right position and played what he had so far. The melody was pretty much done already, as he preferred working on that first before adding the lyrics. As he got past the first three lines, he started humming along until he reached the chorus, which he had managed to finish already. It was even simpler and cheesier than the first few lines, but he was somewhat happy with it. He hoped John would like it, too. That is, if John would ever get his head out of that pink cloud named Brian and pay attention to him again. He groaned at his own bitterness. He was pathetic.

Forcing John from his mind again, he got back to his writing and started working on the fourth line, wanting at least to be a little bit productive that day. However, luck wasn’t with him that day and just when he had thought up a nice little line to use, Julia barged in  through the door and greeted him by placing a wet kiss on his cheek, breaking Paul’s concentration and his train of thought, causing him to lose the idea almost immediately again. He might have been able to grasp it again, had Julia not started talking to him.

“Paul, dear, you have to look at this! It will be perfect for us!” she exclaimed in a high pitched voice as she thrusted a flyer into his hands.

“Julia! I almost had it!” Paul whined and his fiancé glanced at the papers on the piano, but didn’t seem too fazed by the potential master piece she had ruined.

“Never mind that, now. We have got to be quick about this. God knows it’s bound to be popular. I could hardly believe my luck that it was even still available,” she said, tapping eagerly on the flyer in Paul’s hands. Frowning, he looked down at it and started skimming through it. It was for a holiday cottage in the heart of Scotland, perfectly situated in the beautiful country side of Perthshire with forests and woods and a loch not far away. The cottage was small, but quaint and cute without any close neighbours, but was near enough to a small town to do their shopping, with a tea room and a pub as well. It consisted of a small kitchen with a comfortable living room and three bedrooms, two doubles and a single, and a small bathroom. There were bicycles for them to use and not far away, Paul read, there were some stables where they could go horseback riding, if John was still up for that, of course. It would be perfect.

“It’s even rather cheap if you ask me, so we have to decide quickly if we want to rent it for a few nights – I was thinking of two – or we’ll be missing out. What do you think?” Julia asked, and Paul smiled up at her.

“It’s perfect,” he said and Julia smiled back at him before leaning in and capturing his mouth for a sweet and gentle kiss.

“I knew you would love it,” she said. “And John and Jules will love it, too. There’s a farm near-by where they keep donkeys. She’d love to go there once and help look after them, I’m sure. And John always loved to visit my sister in Scotland when he was younger.” Paul could only nod and smile, already imagining the entire holiday. It was be perfect, going on long walks with John and having picnics by the lake and sneak off together to get some privacy. And there were two bedrooms with a double bed, meaning they would finally be able to sleep together in a double bed, rather than John’s small single. He felt his cheeks heat up as his mind began to come up with all sorts of things they could do together in that double bed now they had the space and didn’t have to worry about falling off. That would take John’s mind away from Brian.

“Should I book it?”

Paul blinked a few times at his fiancé as he realised she had spoken, having been too lost in the thought of him and John to have heard her.

“What?”

“The cottage! Do you want me to book it? The next holiday is only a few weeks away and who knows how long this is going to be available.”

“Yes, yes. Go book it,” Paul quickly told her. It might not be Paris, but it was going to be the best holiday ever as long as he could spend it with John. Julia nodded and snatched the flyer back before leaving. Paul watched her, but his mind was still with John. He couldn’t wait to tell him. It might be just what they needed to make the best of what they had before it would have to end. He could already imagine the expression of excitement on his handsome face. He hoped he would be back home soon. What was that boy doing?

“Oh, and Paul? I’m going to go have tea with Mimi, alright? I’ll be back before dinner,” Julia called out from the hall, breaking Paul’s train of thoughts once more.

“Okay! Send her my best.”

“Shall do. Oh and before I forget, John said he’ll be home a bit later, so don’t bother cooking just yet. I promised him we’d wait.”

“What? Why?” Paul asked, sitting up attentively at the mention of his younger lover.

“He said he was going to talk to the band and then meet up with Brian. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to discuss everything with him,” Julia explained. Paul cursed at that, trying in vain not to let it get to him, but already he was wondering why John would spend that long with Brian. Then again, he was going to be the boy’s manager, so they must have plenty to discuss. But, what if-

“Anyway. I’ll be off then. See you in a bit!” Julia called and Paul almost hadn’t heard her again, but caught on quickly enough to say “good-bye” back. This thing with John and Brian was getting ridiculous. He wasn’t going to let it get to him. He wasn’t. John wouldn’t betray him. He would stay true to him. Or so he told himself. At the moment he couldn’t be completely certain, his fears getting to him. John, after all, was a very handsome lad and he had already noticed Brian had picked up on that as well. He had been flirting with him and John hadn’t done anything to stop him. So, what if…? Sighing, he turned back to his song. He had to keep busy. There was probably nothing. It was only John, trying to mess with him and get a reaction from him. He’d refuse Brian if it got to that. There was nothing to worry about and he shouldn’t give into John. But the more he told himself that, the less he started to believe it.

            John cocked back his bottle of beer to let the last of his drink slide down his throat and into his stomach, and glanced at the clock as he swallowed it down. It was already getting late and he still had to talk to Brian, too. He had spent most of the afternoon looking for Ringo, wanting to tell him about Brian first, but he hadn’t been able to find him. He had tried his house, Maureen’s house, calling his friends, going to the music store and he had even passed a few pubs, but he hadn’t been able to find him anywhere and no one else seemed to know where he was either. Ringo’s mum had told him something about him hanging out with a Rory, but the only Rory John knew was this singer of another band, but he had no clue where he lived and didn’t know much else about him either, so that hadn’t been much of a help either. He had hoped Ringo would have gone to The Cavern for a drink as well, but it was already a quarter past four and he still hadn’t walked through the door. His other band mates, however, had shown up at the club for a drink after he had called them up and had told them he had some news for them, so really, Ringo was out of luck because now he was going to be the last one to know the wonderful news. He would try calling him up in the evening or else tomorrow. After all, he couldn’t just disappear. And he really did want to talk to Brian about the reactions he got from the band. He wanted to show him he was serious about this. After all, this might be his only chance and he wasn’t going to blow it.

Pete Shotton was sitting next to him, drinking his own beer and checking out the girls that would walk by their booth. He would often elbow his side and whisper some ungodly comment about a girl he liked to him and John would chuckle along, enjoying it when the alcohol made his friend loose-tongued. And really, he didn’t mind his comments. He’d do the same after all, if he could make those comments about some of the boys who’d walk by. Or one in particular that was nowhere near them now. And at least he shut his filthy mouth when John started talking about the band and Brian. Moreover, he seemed about the only person who was actually excited about getting a manager, unlike the rest of his pathetic little band.

“I don’t know, John…” one of them, Colin, said, nervously fingering the edge of his glass as he refused to meet John’s eyes. John sighed and glanced around their booth and felt surprised at the dubious expressions on his friends’ faces.

“Come on, guys! What is there not to know? We might get famous for fuck’s sake!” he exclaimed, putting his bottle back down with a loud thud, trying to bring up their spirits. It didn’t work.

“But we’re not even any good, John. You and Richie are, and Stu isn’t bad, but we’re just a couple of  idiots pretending to be good at something we aren’t,” Colin said and some others nodded in agreement. Pete, however, shrugged.

“I’d like to stick around. Might not be good, but at least you have me around till you can swap my pretty face for actual talent.”

“Thanks, Pete. I’m sure your washboard would have been sorely missed,” John replied with a laugh, earning himself a glare from his mate.

“Piss off, Lennon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll going to try to pull a bird,” he announced as he stood up from his seat and slapped John’s shoulder to let him know he was still with him and the band. At least he had one person who’d like to stick around, which was better than nothing, John reasoned.

“Eh, Pete,” he called after him as the grabbed an empty glass from the table that only held some half-melted ice, “take this, would ya? In case she slaps your pathetic face.” The boys laughed at this and Pete stuck out his tongue, but took the glass from John anyway and walked away without another word. John grinned as he watched him go and place the glass in front of the girl he’d been looking at for the last five minutes. She looked from the glass to Pete, to their table and back to the glass, before bursting out in laughter and offering Pete a seat. John groaned. Of course that would work for him.

“What about you, Ivan? You gonna leave me without a bass player?” John asked, turning back to his so-called “friends” who turned out to be fucking traitors.  

“Sorry, Lennon,” he replied with a shrug. John sighed and put his bottle back to his lips, hoping to get at least one last drop from it. When nothing came out, he put it back down with a sigh, feeling defeated, even by his true best friend, alcohol.

“Listen, lads. All I want to know is who of you twats is going to stick ‘round for a bit, yeah?” John asked, but no one said anything in return, making it more than clear to John. “Great pals you all are. Really.”

“Come on, John. You don’t need us anyway,” Ivan said.

“Don’t I?”

“No. You and Richie will make it on your own. You’ll be able to find some good guys quickly enough. We’ll only walk in your way. And with Pete and his washboard and Stu sticking around for at least a short while, you can find replacements in no time. You’ll be fine!” Ivan explained and John immediately felt a bit better. He was right. He didn’t need them. He and Ringo were good enough for all of them and Stuart and Pete could stick around until they found some others to join the band who were actually good. Perhaps all was not yet lost.

“Thanks, Iv,” he said and Colin got to his feet, telling them he was going to get them another round to celebrate the future of their band, even if they weren’t in it. John, however, told him not to bother. He was going to talk to Brian.

            It was already closing-time when John walked through the door of the Northern England Music Store. Brian had told him he’d be working there through most of the week, except on Sundays (as the store was closed) and on Mondays. He was alone in the shop, cleaning some stuff up as he started to get ready for closing, the last costumer just having walked out with a bag full of sheet music.

“John!” Brian exclaimed as he noticed the boy hovering around in the doorway, “I hadn’t expected to see you yet.” The older man hung up the last of the guitars, before wiping off his hands on his trousers and turning to John with a bright smile on his face. John smiled back at him and walked further into the shop. He hopped up onto the counter to have a seat as he watched Brian walk over to him.

“I talked to the band. Or at least everyone but Ringo, as I couldn’t find him, and I thought it’d be good to talk about that, you know,” John explained, feeling rather awkward now that there wasn’t any adrenalin rushing through his body from a gig. Brian was only about nine or ten years older than he was, and John had to admit he was good looking, but he felt rather awkward under his gaze, being oddly aware of it and what it meant.

“Oh, well, I’m almost done here. Would you mind if we went to my house to talk?” Brian asked and John shrugged.

“Fine by me,” he said with a careful smile and Brian nodded before he moved behind the counter and started to mess around there, cleaning up left over receipts and bawled up pieces of paper, as well as many pens and notes and the client book. He did it all with a surprising ease and John couldn’t look away as his fingers flew over the counter and swiftly put everything back in place and threw out any rubbish.

John waited patiently as Brian cleared everything up and even when he disappeared into the back of the store to get his own stuff, he remained seated on the counter, tapping a little beat on the wooden surface. Why he was feeling nervous around the other man, he didn’t quite know. It wasn’t the first time a man had showed an interest in him, so really, he shouldn’t feel that awkward around the other man. He knew how to deal with people who tried to flirt with him, but wasn’t interested in himself. But this was different. Because he did sort of like Brian. He was polite and handsome and there was something about the “posh” air that he found kind of interesting. He wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, of course, but he normally wouldn’t have minded having some fun and trying to see where it would lead. Really, the only reason why he didn’t was… Paul.

Even though their relationship was an odd one, with Paul still having a very serious relationship with his mother and both of them knowing it was going to end in a few months, but it would still feel like cheating if he would sleep with anyone else besides him. Even if it wouldn’t be anything serious, it would be wrong and it would feel like he had betrayed Paul in some way. And he knew what Paul’s feelings were on the matter. He had made that clear enough, and although he was adorable when he was trying not to be jealous, and even though it was kind of attractive in a way that it shouldn’t be, he didn’t want to hurt Paul’s feelings in any way. So he had told Paul the truth when he had told him there was no reason for him to be jealous; he could never hurt him or cheat on him with another person like that. And he wasn’t going to.

As soon as Brian came back, John pushed the thoughts away and decided to just refuse him if  the subject happened to come up, and jumped off the counter. Brian had his coat draped over his arm and was carrying a leather briefcase in his hand that reminded John of some of his teachers who had the same one. The thought almost made him chuckle.

“Shall we go?” Brian asked politely, as one would ask their date, and John nodded. Thankfully, he didn’t offer him his arm.

            The car ride couldn’t have lasted longer than ten minutes, and yet John felt like it had taken much longer. There had been an incredible tension between them, even if they had only made some small talk about the weather, and John wasn’t sure how to handle it. He was glad when they pulled up in front of Brian’s house, an older home that was even nicer than Mimi’s. He got out of the car and waited patiently for Brian to do the same and lock his car, before following him through the garden gate and over the path to the front door. Brian unlocked the door and beckoned him to step inside first, which John did with a polite smile.

Brian’s house was as neat as one would expect. It was nicely decorated and the walls were of a nice crème colour. The floors were of an old dark wood and in the middle of the hallway hung a beautiful lamp with a wooden shade that guided the light downwards. Brian helped him take off his coat and hung it on a peg for him, before doing the same with his own jacket and leading John into the living room, which was just as nicely decorated. The flooring here was a light carpet and the walls were of a light green. A large comfy brown sofa stood against a wall with on the other side a fire place that was surrounded by two more dark green chairs on either side of the sofa. In the middle stood a wooden coffee table and along one of the walls stood a large bookcase. John eagerly studied the room as Brian told him to sit down and asked him if he wanted anything to drink.

“Beer would be nice,” John easily replied and Brian nodded before disappearing into the kitchen. John took a seat on the sofa and noticed a few magazines on the coffee table. Most of them were on interior design, which explained a lot and some were on sports, mostly horse racing, and another one was a music magazine that was mostly about classical music, which made John wonder what he wanted with his band. Tucking his hands under his thighs, he waited for Brian to return. It was odd for him to feel this nervous and he was relieved when Brian walked back into the room, holding two bottles of beer.

“Sorry. I couldn’t find a glass,” the older man apologized as he handed John one of the bottles. John shook his head.

“That’s okay. Your house is lovely, by the way,” he said, trying his hardest not to flush at his own stupid compliment. He sounded like his aunt Mimi for Christ’s sake. Brian took a seat – thankfully on one of the chairs and not next to him – and smiled.

“Thanks. I er… I always wanted to do something with interior design, but my father never liked the sound of it. This is kind of my outlet for that,” he explained.

“Well, it looks good,” John replied, unsure what else to say and looked away to take a sip from his drink. He had never been more glad to have alcohol, which was saying something, as alcohol was, after all, his best friend. He could still feel Brian’s gaze on him and the tension in the room caused him to nearly choke on his drink. What was wrong with him! He didn’t have to do anything. But then why did he feel like a girl who had just gone on a date and mistakenly went back home with the guy, now knowing he was expecting something. Brian wasn’t expecting anything! Or was he?

“So, you wanted to talk to me?” Brian asked and John looked up at him as he nodded.

“Yeah. It’s about the band,” John explained. He tried to continue, but his voice wouldn’t work.

“Yes?” Brian asked, chuckling in an attempt to break the tension that John was certain he must feel as well.

“Well, the thing is,” John started, finally having found his voice again, “not many of the guys want to continue if it’s getting that serious. There’s not any good and Pete would like to stick around till we’ve found replacement, but…”

“John, I cannot manage a band that doesn’t exist, you realise that, don’t you?” Brian asked and John’s eyes widened in shock, before quickly nodding.

“Yes! Of course. I still have a band. I mean, Stuart will be around for some time still and he’s an alright bass player and can even play some piano and guitar. And Pete can stick around-“

“What about your drummer?” Brian interrupted him.

“I haven’t spoken to him, yet. I tried to, but I couldn’t get a hold of him. But I don’t doubt he would love for us to get a manager. We always were the only ones that were really serious about it,” John said, knowing very well that Brian needed all of the band together, or else they would never find any people willing to join. After all, Ringo and him had already tried to find other people for their band, but no one had wanted in back the because they hadn’t been very good then and hadn’t had a proper band to join yet. He hoped Brian wouldn’t give up on them yet, though. This was their only chance.

“Well,” Brian said as he sat up in his seat and leaned closer to John, “if you can manage to get him and Stuart with you, I’m sure we can work something out, but-“

“Stuart will leave for Germany in August, though,” John reminded him, knowing it was best to be honest with the man if he was going to manage him and his band. The older man sighed at that and thought for a while before nodding.

“I need you to have at least three people. You and Ringo- it is Ringo, isn’t it- are good, but you need a band. Try to get at least Pete to stay with you and we can start replacing people. You said Stuart would be willing to stick around, didn’t you? Well, if he could for as long as he can, that would be good. Can you manage that?” Brian asked, looking John straight in the eye. John nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Brian chuckled at that and placed his bottle of the coffee table. “Call me Brian, please. We’re not that far apart in ages, you know, and if I do become your manager it would be nice for us to get closer, don’t you think?”

“I-I supposed so,” John answered, feeling his chest tighten. What did that mean? Brian smiled at him and got onto his feet. John followed him with his eyes as he walked around the room. He picked up a few pieces of paper from the fireplace, and walked back to John, this time taking a seat right besides John. John tried to fight the urge to move away. When he saw what Brian held in his hands, he looked up at him in surprise. It hadn’t been paper, but rather a record.

“Where did you get that?” John asked, immediately recognizing it. It had been a record he, Ringo and Stuart had made after Ringo’s seventeenth birthday. He had gotten some money from an aunt and they had decided to make a record. It only had two songs on it, both of them covers, and John remembered having shoved it under a door of a shop about two weeks later with his phone number to see what they would think of it. He had never heard anything back, so he had assumed they had thrown it out.

“It is how I heard about in the first place. I was found it on the counter of another music store one day and they said they wanted to throw it out, that it was rubbish, so I asked if I could have it. I liked it, even though it was, if I’m being frank, bad,” the older man chuckled, but John could only stare at the record in his hands. “I kind of started to listen to you guys perform and then I decided to talk to you.”

“It took you long enough,” John chuckled and when he looked back up he realised Brian had gotten a little closer to him. Their eyes met and John swallowed thickly as his breathing grew heavy. Brian didn’t say anything more and gently lay a hand on John’s knee, making his intention more than clear, and before John knew what he was doing, he had jumped up from the couch and jumped back. Brian looked up at him in shock, before realisation dawned upon him and he moved back on the couch, blushing.  

“I-I am sorry! I shouldn’t have… I just assumed-” he quickly said and John merely stared at him for a while, before he shook his head and interrupted him.

“No! It’s not… you’re not _wrong_. It’s just… I already have someone,” he said quickly and Brian visibly relaxed at that. John could understand why. If he had been straight, it might have meant the end of him. It stayed quiet between the two men, neither looking at each other. John continued to hover awkwardly in front of Brian, unsure what to say or do and he chewed his lip. Finally, after far too long, it was Brian who spoke first.

“If you don’t want me to be your manager anymore, I understand.” He said, looking up at John with hopeful eyes. John shook his head and offered him a careful smile, hoping to put him at ease.

“No. That’s okay. It was just a mistake,” he said and Brian nodded. “I think I should better go.” John added and Brian nodded again as he got to his feet, but John stopped him. “I can let myself out,” he said and Brian nodded again. Neither said anything more as John turned around and started to make his way to the front door, glad they got that out of the way. He could only hope Brian wouldn’t be too upset.

            By the time John walked through the front door of his own house again, he already felt better. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was for the best that that had happened between him and Brian. They now both knew where they stood and hopefully it would have relieved some of the tension between them. And now Brian knew he was taken, so he probably wouldn’t try anything again. Sighing, he closed the door behind him and started to take off his coat and shoes, hoping he could meet Paul alone and talk to him about it. It might put Paul more at ease, too, knowing he had refused Brian because of him. And knowing Paul, he’d know how to handle the situation next time he would see Brian again.

Sighing, he made his way over to the living room, knowing Paul would be there judging from the sound of the piano that came from behind that door. He hoped Julia wasn’t there with him. He really needed to talk to Paul, alone. After all, he didn’t want his mother to know anything about his sexuality. And if he’d pretend he was completely straight, she might call the cops on Brian or something and he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. He didn’t do anything wrong, after all. It was just unfortunate. His hand hovered above the doorknob as he took a deep breath to calm himself. Paul’s playing had turned more serious now, rather than the whimsical melodies he was playing when John had walked through the front door. It didn’t sound like anything John had ever heard before, so he figured Paul had been writing him a song. The thought made him relax instantly and a goofy smiled appeared on his face as he leaned with his forehead against the door to listen. It was a nice little upbeat song, cute and sweet, especially when Paul started to sing as well.

_Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you  
_ _Tomorrow I’ll miss you  
_ _Remember I’ll always be true  
_ _And then while I’m away  
_ _I’ll write home every day  
_ _And I’ll send all my loving to you_

_I’ll pretend that I’m kissing  
_ _The lips that I’m missing  
_ _And hope that my dream will come true  
_ _And then while I’m away  
_ _I’ll write home every day  
_ _And I’ll send all my loving to you_

_All my loving, I will send to you  
_ _All my loving, darling I’ll be true_

“John? What are you doing?” The voice behind him startled him and he almost knocked his head against the door. Smiling, he pushed himself away from the door and turned to his little sister who was watching him curiously from the stairs. He tried to wipe the love-stricken grin from his face, but found himself unable to, so he walked over to his sister and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to hug her closer.

“Your big brother is going to be a rock star,” he told her and Jules shrieked in excitement as she looked up at him with adoration.

“Like Elvis?” She asked and John couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s hope so, luv,” he said and kissed the top of her head before pulling away with a sigh and walking her back upstairs, hoping for the life of him that Ringo could be as excited as he was.

* * *

 

Paul was happy when it was finally night and he could sneak off to John’s little bedroom and slip into bed with him. He had been meaning to talk to him all day, but never had had the chance to. He had heard John behind the living room door late that afternoon, but Jules’s voice had stopped him from opening the door and pulling John inside to kiss him and make him listen to his new song that he was actually rather happy with. Soon after, when John had gone upstairs with his sister, Julia had come back home from Mimi and had claimed his full attention for the rest of the afternoon and the entirety of the evening, wanting to discuss all kind of things for the wedding and their now upcoming holiday. She hadn’t even allowed them a minute alone, so Paul had finally given up on the idea to talk to John before that night, and had simply waited patiently for her to announce she would be going to bed and fall sound asleep beside him.

Thankfully, it was still early, the clock not yet having chimed twelve. Julia had been tired and had therefore been eager to go to bed early for a good night’s rest. Paul had been more than happy to come along with her, and John had quickly followed their example, probably knowing Paul would want to come to bed with him before going to sleep. So, now here he was, curled up around the younger man, head on his chest, as John sweetly ran his fingers through his hair. It was a wonderful sensation and Paul felt himself relax completely into it. It had been so calming that he had almost forgotten to ask John about Brian. John, however, seemed to want to talk about something else. Paul hoped that didn’t say anything about what was going on between Brian and him. Not that he was jealous. Merely curious. Yes, curious.

“I heard your new song,” John announced, looking down at Paul with a smile on his lips. Paul looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes, waiting for him to continue. “Was it for me?”

“Maybe. If you want it to be,” Paul answered rather shyly. The smile on John’s lips widened.

“Fucking knew it. You’re so hopelessly romantic.”

“Oh, piss off. You wrote me a song as well, remember? And it’s not that bad!”

“I didn’t say it was. I thought it was really sweet. But you’re the hopeless romantic one between the two of us. My song wasn’t half as bad. And you’re the one wanting to take me on a romantic trip to Paris of all places!” John laughed and Paul flushed, but couldn’t help but chuckle along. He knew John was right. So what if he was a bit of a romantic? He liked doing romantic things. Doing things properly and letting the person he loved know he loved them. He probably would have done something special for their one-year-anniversary if he had been able to.

“Speaking of holidays,” John continued, “we’re going to Scotland then?” Paul glanced up at him with a frown, surprised that he knew, as he hadn’t said a word to him about it yet.

“How did you-“

“I’m John Winston Lennon, Macca. Don’t underestimate me. I listened in through the door.”

“Naughty.”

“Fucking punish me for it,” John dared him with a wiggle of his eyebrows, making Paul laugh. He pulled John a little more against him, wanting to have him closer and leaned up to place a little kiss on the boy’s lips. “Much of a punishment, that is” John remarked with another chuckle when their lips broke apart and Paul only kissed him again. “Oh, please, sir! No more! I can’t handle it!” John begged dramatically, and Paul kissed him again, more than willing to play along, as long as it meant he could kiss the younger man, enjoying the feel of his thin rough lips pressing against his own, liking how different it was to kissing a woman.

Once he figured John’s punishment was over, Paul laid his head back down on John’s chest and looked up at him, holding his gaze, watching in amusement as John pretended to be severely hurt by his kisses, the torture having been too much for him to handle.

“I love you,” Paul found himself saying and John grinned down at him as a pulled a spastic face at him, obviously trying to get him to laugh again, something Paul was only more than happy to do.

“See? What did I tell you? Hopeless romantic.”

“But you love me, too.”

“Yes. It’s a dreadful curse that I must bear.”

“How awful.”

“Maybe you can kiss me better.”

“But I thought my kisses were torture?”

“Yes, but they’re the sweetest torture of them all,” John said and Paul snorted at that.

“And you call me the hopeless romantic one,” he said with a wink and John chuckled.

“Of course, didn’t you hear? I can repeat it for you.”

“Or you could tell me what happened at Brian’s?” Paul suggested instead. The younger man blinked up at him a few times, his brain working to fathom how Paul had known he had gone to visit Brain. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to him after all. To Paul, the confusement on his face looked really rather adorable. “I can smell him on you,” Paul added for a laugh, watching in amusement as John’s eyes grew wide and he started sniffing at his clothes.

“You can’t be-” John muttered, and Paul laughed as he shook his head.

“No, I can’t. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Julia told me,” he admitted and John hit him hard on the arm as punishment. Paul simply took it, knowing he deserved it, even though he wished his punishment had been kisses, too. He just hadn’t been able to resist. He leaned down to kiss John’s chest as a little apology. John relaxed and leaned back into the bed again with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. Paul simply watched him, waiting for John to speak up and say what was clearly bothering him. A worrying thought made its way into Paul’s head, and he started to nervously play with the material of John’s shirt as he waited impatiently. What if they…

“The band is falling apart.” Paul sighed in relief. Then, when Paul had fully realised what John had said, he leaned up in surprise.

“What?”

“I know. Isn’t that great? Finally, the band is getting somewhere and now people are chickening out. Fucking traitors,” John scolded. “Stu’s leaving, of course. For Germany, so I can’t blame him. He made it clear from the start that his art would always come first. He’s better at  that anyway. Pete’s willing to stick around for a bit till I’ve found replacement, but the others… the stupidest thing is that I get it, you know. I get it. They suck. They didn’t sign up for things to get serious. But still, you know.”

“What about Ringo?” Paul asked carefully, knowing from what John had told him that he was just as serious about the band and becoming famous as John was. Surely, he wouldn’t leave John and the band? To his surprise, John shrugged in response.

“Haven’t talked to him, yet. Can’t get a hold of him. But even if he wants in, it will only be the two of us. That’s not a rock ‘n roll band! And God knows where I’m going to find a new bass player, a good lead guitar player and a guy on keyboards.”

Paul didn’t say anything in reply. He wished he could have said he’d be willing to join. After all, he could play all those instruments John had mentioned and more, and would be more than happy to get into a band again and become famous. It wasn’t like he would miss his current job that much if he needed to quit. But he couldn’t. He was forty-two after all. He couldn’t get into young fresh rock and roll band with a couple of kids half his age! How stupid would they look?! What made it even worse was that Paul sort of felt where this was going. He had been in a band when he had been younger. Together with George and some other guys, but eventually people started leaving and he and George hadn’t been able to find any people who’d fit into the band so it would work. There was always something missing and in the end they had simply had to give up their dream. Paul had hoped things would be different for John, but so far, it didn’t look like it.

“I told Brian already,” John continued after a moment of silence, “I went to visit him at his shop to tell him and he said I needed at least Ringo and one other person who’d be willing to stay, as well as Stuart for as long as he could, and  then we’d need to find replacements. But even if I do get Ringo to stick with me and the band, I wouldn’t be able to find a third guy, would I? Pete doesn’t want to stick around for that long, and the others already made their point clear. Brian can’t manage a band that doesn’t exist.”

“I’m sorry, John,” Paul said, not knowing what else he could say, and laid his head back down on John’s chest. The younger man let out a deep sigh as his fingers found their way into Paul’s hair again.

“Yeah, well… I’m not giving up, yet. I still need to talk to Richie and maybe he has an idea. Or maybe Pete will be willing to stick around for even longer until we have everything set up. Or perhaps, Brian would be willing to take me and Richie on as a duo or something. Not that I would know how that would work. Anyway, I’m not giving up.”

“Good,” Paul muttered, hoping John’s determination would get him somewhere, but, being the more realistic one, he doubted it would be enough. But then again, he liked being surprised, and all was not yet lost. And Brian did seem willing to go far for John. The thought gnawed at him, and unwittingly, he fisted his hand in John’s shirt, holding him close. John seemed to have noticed, as Paul could see him looking down at him with a telling grin on his face. Paul hoped he’d shut up about it. But of course, he didn’t.

“Brian’s home is very nice, by the way. You know him, don’t you. Have you seen it?”

“Brian’s home? No, why would I? We were never even friends or anything even close to that. And what were you doing in Brian’s home anyway?” He knew he sounded too defensive to come across as casual, so he took a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn’t jealous, after all. Why wouldn’t he be calm?

“To talk to him, remember? He asked me over for a drink at the shop, seeing as he was closing up and all. He was really polite.”

“He offered you a drink?!”

“Yeah. He was really kind to me. All gentleman-like.”

“And you like that?” Paul asked, sounding much more bitter than he had intended.

“And I thought you weren’t jealous.” John chuckled giving Paul a knowing look. Still, Paul didn’t give in just yet. He pouted at John and shook his head.

“I’m not. Just curious.”

“Of course you are. Well, seeing as you’re not jealous, then I don’t think it would hurt to tell you that Brian actually made a move on me. Seems like he’s into me. I mean, I noticed his flirting, but I didn’t know he was serious.” Paul froze at those words. Brian actually made a move on John? And how could John say something like that so calmly? His fingers tightened into John’s shirt, afraid John might actually disappear if he didn’t hold on to him as tightly as he could. Had something happened between them at Brian’s house. After the drink? Was that why he had stayed away for that long? But  John wouldn’t cheat, would he? Or wouldn’t that be cheating, considering he was engaged to Julia… but surely, John wouldn’t.

“He tried to kiss me,” John said and Paul glanced up at him, feeling how his fingers twitched with the need to… to… to do _something_ , anything.

“Did you?” he asked, his voice dark. John blinked down at him a few times, before cocking his head innocently to the side. As if he didn’t know exactly what Paul was saying.

“Did what?”

“Did you kiss him, John?” Paul repeated with a deep sigh, feeling himself getting slightly annoyed. The words hurt as he spoke them and he dug his nails deeper into John’s skin, making him wince before answering.

“No.”

“Good. Did you want to?”

“Yes.” The word was like a punch in the gut for Paul, and before he knew what he was doing, he had captured John’s mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue licking into the boy’s mouth as he  gripped him even tighter and moved to straddle him, keeping him trapped beneath him. John kissed back just as passionately, trying his best to reciprocate and keep up with Paul as he moaned hungrily into his mouth, surrendering to him and allowing Paul to dominate him with his kiss. It felt amazing, John’s hot mouth against his, tongue curling around his as he tasted him and market his territory, claiming the younger men with a hunger he had rarely felt before. His mind grew fuzzy and he growled into John’s mouth as he cocked his head to deepen the kiss, wanting to devour John whole so he would never forget to whom he belonged. His teeth clacked painfully against John’s and their noses bumped awkwardly together as they kisses. John’s hands came up, reaching for Paul and tugging at his hair as he cupped Paul’s arse with his other hand and squeezed. On instinct, Paul thrusted his hips down against John, earning himself a heady moan. Wanting to hear that wonderful sound again, he repeated his motion, wanting to drown in the younger man.

“A-and I thought… you weren’t jealous,” John remarked when they finally pulled apart to breathe, sounding utterly out of breath, and that only spurred Paul on even more, knowing he was the reason for that. That he could make John feel that way. Only he.

“Am not,” Paul stubbornly snarled at him, reaching down to grab at John’s thigh, wanting his legs apart so he could lie between them, needing the younger man, needing him to feel him, needed to take what was his. John chuckled at his obvious jealousy and how it seemed to affect the older man and refused to part his legs for him, keeping his thighs firmly pressed together.

“Admit it,” he basically ordered, only frustrating Paul even more, “admit that you’re jealous.” Paul growled and grabbed John’s jaw, forcing him to look up at him, before he leaned down and kissed him again, teeth nibbling painfully at John’s lips.

“No,” he growled, still trying to pull John’s legs apart, before parting his lips and licking into John’s mouth, savouring the moan he managed to drag from him. His nails dug into John’s jaw, forcing him to part his mouth, so Paul to suck on his tongue, feeling the warm organ pulse in his mouth. The sensation and sense of power went straight to his cock, making it quickly grow erect in his pants. John, taking advantage of this, pushed his thigh up against Paul’s crotch, causing him to gasp at the sudden pressure, realising John’s mouth.

“You are so jealous,” John growled at him, still out of breath, as he rubbed at Paul’s crotch with his thigh, watching with a lustful gaze as Paul fell apart on top of him. “Say it.”

“Fuck, John…” Paul cursed, looking down hungrily at him as his hands went to John’s legs again, trying to pry them open, but John’s thighs were surprisingly strong.

“Say it, Paul. Please…” John breathed, grinning up at him, and Paul couldn’t take it anymore.

“I am jealous, okay? And you’re mine, John. Mine alone. No one is allowed to have you but me and I am jealous of Brian,” he finally admitted and right away John’s legs fell apart, wrapped themselves around Paul’s waist as John grasped Paul’s head in both hands and forced their lips together again. Paul could only moan and go with it, sighing into John’s mouth when John thrusted his hips up, rubbing their clothed cock together through their underwear.

“I hate you,” Paul growled into his lover’s mouth, feeling rather cheated, but John only laughed.

“I love you too, Macca,” he replied as he broke the kiss, looking straight into Paul’s eyes as he continued to rock his hips up into Paul’s, urging him on. “D’you know why I didn’t kiss him?” he asked and Paul nodded as he leaned in and started kissing the crook of John’s neck. “Because I love you. And as long as I’m here with you, I’m not fucking anyone but you.” Paul chuckled at that.

“Daft git,” he muttered, but still he was happy to hear it. He had known it, of course, but hearing it from John’s lips was so much better. He pulled away and caught John’s lips for another kiss as he moved his hands down and started to tug at John’s shirt. “Off.”

He didn’t need to tell John twice. The younger man sat up, causing Paul to shift so he was fully sitting in his lap, and swiftly took off his sleeping shirt before doing the same with Paul’s. As soon as their chests were bare and exposed, Paul leaned forward and captured one of John’s nipples with his mouth, suckling on it as he rubbed it with his tongue, playing with it. John groaned at the feeling, arching his back into the touch as he breathed out Paul’s name. He let out a soft cry when Paul started tugging on the little nip with his teeth, causing him to grin at his reaction.

“Try to keep quiet, John.” He reminded him and John nodded as he bit down his lip and shifted beneath Paul, trying eagerly to get some friction. When Paul finally pulled off, leaving his nipples wet and abused behind, he let out a disappointed whimper. When Paul started to move away from his completely, he whined and reached out for the other man, eagerly grasping for him.

“Roll over,” Paul commanded, leaving no room for debate, so John did as he was asked. He rolled over onto his belly and laid down for Paul, keeping his legs spread. He sighed when Paul let his hands slide down from his shoulders to his butt, messaging every bit of flesh he found on the way, before his fingers started tugging at the waistband of his boxers, wanting them gone. John obediently raised up his hips and allowed Paul to drag them down. Then, without a single warming, Paul cupped his arse cheeks into his hands and pulled them apart, exposing him. John flushed red at the knowledge of how he must look, and the only warning he got was the feeling of Paul’s hot wet breath tickling over his crack, before he felt the feeling of Paul’s rubbery tongue slide over his hole. He shuddered violently at the unexpected touch and whined, mindlessly reaching behind himself to tangle his fingers into Paul’s hair and push him closer as he pushed his arse out into Paul’s sinful touch, wanting- no needing more.  

“Paul…” he whined, begging for more, “Please…” He could feel Paul nod and grin as he leaned in again and repeated the movement, licking up and down his hole and playing teasingly with his puckered ring, wetting him and opening him up as John shuddered against him, begging so beautifully. Every time Paul pulled away to breath, he looked down at him, groaning as he saw the boy’s wet opening twitch wantonly. He playfully smacked John’s arse with the palm of his hand, causing John to whelp, before leaning in again, closing his lips around it and giving a light suck, before sticking his tongue inside a little, enjoying the feeling of John spreading around him.

“Ugh… D-da… Paul…” John moaned, grabbing a pillow to bury his head in to keep quiet, knowing he wasn’t going to keep his voice down for much longer if Paul was going to continue doing _that_ to him.

“Who do you belong to, John?” Paul whispered into his ear as he crawled up John’s body, suckling a mark in the back of the boy’s neck as he reached down with his hand and started to circle John’s twitching hole with his index finger, his touch only feather light. John bit down his lip as he moved into the touch, needing more.

“Y-you… D-Paul.” He groaned and Paul kissed his cheek, before allowing his finger to slowly enter John. The boy growled into his pillow as he opened up for Paul, allowing him in. But Paul was moving too slowly. He needed more.

“Paul… Daddy, _please_ ,” he begged, whimpering and struggling when Paul suddenly froze. He frowned at the sudden lack of physical touch, and growled impatiently, not getting what he could possibly have done wrong for Paul to want to actually cruelly _punish_ him for it.

“P-Paul?” John asked carefully, lifting his head from the pillow, and as soon as his eyes locked with Paul, he knew what was wrong and just what he had said. He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t. He had remembered how Paul used to have trouble with that little name before the engagement, so he had decided not to use it anymore during sex after it, knowing Paul wouldn’t take it well. It had seemed he had been right. He hadn’t meant to. It had just slipped out and now he wished he could go back in time just a few seconds so he could stop himself from ever saying it in the first place.

“Paul? I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” John started, but Paul shook his head and already started to pull back from him, retreating to the other side of the bed as he stared down at the floor, eyes wide and his face as white as the walls. John, unsure what to do, quickly pulled away as well and reached for his clothes, quickly pulling his shirt back on in the hope it would put the older man at ease. But Paul refused to even look at him. When John reached out to touch him, Paul flinched and moved further away.

“I-I can’t do this, John. It’s… it’s too weird.” Paul finally spoke, his voice trembling and John nodded as he knelt down on the bed beside him, making sure not to touch him again, figuring he probably needed some space to calm down.

“I know. You don’t have to. I- I shouldn’t have said it.” Paul didn’t reply to that. He only stared down at the floor, unmoving. It was rather scary and John wished he could kiss it all better, but he doubted Paul would take that much better. He didn’t have a clue what went on in Paul’s head in that moment and he had never been good at comforting people. What could he do?

“I just need to… I think I’d better go,” Paul finally spoke after a long and awkward silence. He raised to his feet and went to walk away without even glancing so much at John. The younger man tried reaching for him and stop him, but Paul was already too far away from him.

“Paul, don’t go. It’s fine. Please, stay.” John asked, but Paul shook his head and without another word, he left John’s room, letting the door fall shut behind him with a quiet thud.

              When John woke up that following morning, he felt horrible. He hadn’t slept well at all that evening since Paul had left, having been worrying about their relationship for most of the time and hoping Paul would still return to him. He hadn’t and in total John couldn’t have had more than four hours of sleep. In intervals. He felt like crap, and he would’ve have laid in bed for the rest of the day, if he didn’t need to talk to Paul and find Ringo. It had been his own stupid fault, that this had happened. If only he hadn’t called Paul daddy. It was a stupid mistake, and normally he had been able to keep himself from saying it, but this time, he had been so intoxicated with Paul’s dominance, that he had completely lost himself in it and it had just slipped out. God, he was so stupid.

He took a quick shower to clean himself from last night’s activities, and quickly threw on some simple clothes before rushing downstairs, hoping to catch Paul alone. They needed to talk about this. There wasn’t anything even severely wrong. Or was there? He knew why Paul had reacted to strongly. In just a few months, he would be his “new father” (not that Paul could ever be his “new father”) as he would have married his mother by then. It was too close to home, and Paul had had difficulties with the name, their age difference and their entire family situation from the start, so his reaction hadn’t been that odd. For John it was different. For him the age difference had been only a minor inconvenience and the name only a kink he was into. He had done it with other people before, and the fact that Paul was so much older and actually looked like a total daddy, only made it more enjoyable for him. But for Paul…

He found Paul in the kitchen, having breakfast and still looking odd. He wasn’t that white anymore and his eyes were normal, but his body visibly tensed up when John entered the room and he refused to meet John’s eye, which was an odd change from how they would normally try to eye-fuck each other throughout breakfast if they had the chance.

“Ah, John! Good morning. Slept well?” Julia greeted him, and John smiled painfully at her as he nodded. He glanced at Paul, but he still had his eyes cast down to the paper he clearly wasn’t reading, refusing to look up at him. John swallowed thickly at that, grabbed himself a bowl of cereal and poured himself a cup of tea, before taking a seat opposite Paul. When Julia left for a moment to get the paper from the mat, John reached out for Paul and laid a gentle hand on Paul’s, but Paul quickly pulled it away from the younger man.

“Paul. I didn’t mean-” John started, but quickly shut his mouth when his mother walked back into the kitchen. She threw Paul the paper, who quickly unfolded it on a random page and pushed the old one away. John sighed, and went back to his own food. Was this going to be the end of them? The thought caused him to momentarily forget how to breathe. He didn’t want it to end. It couldn’t end. Not because of one stupid slip of the tongue. Right? He took a deep breath to calm himself, telling himself not to be so dramatic. They had gone through worse things. This wasn’t going to be the end of them. That was just ridiculous. He found it hard to belief. Especially when Paul got up and left the room without another word to neither him nor Julia.

“I don’t know what has gotten into him. He’s been like that since he woke up this morning. I don’t hope his going to get sick.” His mother said with a sigh as she sat down on Paul’s old spot with her own breakfast. John glanced up at her and offered her a careful smile.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine soon. Probably just nerves,” he said and Julia thought about that for a little while before sighing and nodding.

“I hope you’re right.”

            After breakfast, John decided to leave Paul alone for a little while to figure things out and focus on Ringo. Maybe he just needed to think it over and take some distance to realise that things weren’t actually that bad, or so John hoped. He already started to miss Paul, and the morning wasn’t even over yet. Walking over to the phone – John had decided to call Ringo’s home before going to look for him through the entire city of Liverpool – he wondered if he could do anything for Paul, but he figured that if Paul was only going to avoid him, there wasn’t much for him to do. No, focussing on Ringo was probably the best way to spend his time right now. Luckily for him, Ringo answered the phone on the first try already!

“Hey, Richie! Where were you yesterday, mate? I was looking all over Liverpool for you!” John asked as he curled the cord of the phone around his finger, relieved that unlike yesterday, he’d be able to meet up with Ringo right away. Maybe Ringo had an idea on what to do with Paul. No! Band first.

“Oh, I was off with Rory Storm. Having a beer and doing some music, you know.” Richie said from the other end of the line, obviously trying very hard to sound light hearted about it, which made John frown. He was probably imagining it. Why would Ringo have to lie. And his mother did say he was off with said Rory.

“Right. Anyway, I kind want to talk to you ‘bout something. Cemetery fine for you? I’ll bring chocolate.”

“Oh… er… y-yeah, sure. I actually don’t have much time. We could meet up tomo-“

“No! It will only take a short while. I don’t have much time either, so… see you there in twenty?” John asked, not wanting to have to wait to meet up with Ringo again. It almost seemed as if the guy had been avoiding him. Which was a silly thought, of course. It remained quiet on the other end for a short while, before Ringo finally answered him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll er… see you there then? Usual grave?”

“Of course. See you there then!”

“Right. And don’t forget that chocolate, Lennon. I need some chocolate. Mum refuses to buy me some and Maureen is eating everything herself.” Ringo replied with a somewhat nervous chuckle, and John chuckled along half-heartedly.

“I won’t forget. Now, get your fat arse in gear. Don’t be late.”


	26. Chapter 26

It was unusually quiet in the canteen. Most of the seats were empty and the people who were there, were either alone or talking in small groups, their voices hushed and no more than a soft but constant murmur. John was one of those who weren’t saying a word. He sat alone in the far end corner of the canteen, as far away as possible from prying eyes. He didn’t want anyone to see him, fearing they might want to come over to him and talk to him and honestly, talking to someone was the last thing John wanted to do in that moment. He just wanted to sit there, sulking as he poked holes in his empty milk carton with his pencil. His lunch, he had pushed away from him, half-eaten. Some might say he was overreacting, but to John his behaviour was completely reasonable. The band had been his last chance of a future for him. Without it, he might as well hand himself over to the police right now. It would only be a matter of time.

Sighing, he pulled his pencil out of the carton, before forcing it back in somewhere else and repeating the process, creating hole after hole as randomly as he could manage it, not even wanting to feel the pleasure of seeing a face or a star or a cross in the pattern. It would ruin his angry self-pitying mood, and he had deserved some time to pity himself in silence, without anything or anyone disturbing him.

He hated Ringo the most. That traitor. How dare he abandon him? They were like a team! Growling, John angrily stabbed his poor innocent milk carton again. Or they _had_ been a team. Because Ringo could piss off and walk to hell for all he cared. It had been two days since John had met up with him at the cemetery. From the moment he had walked over to him, he had realised something was wrong. Ringo had sat on the gravestone of their usual grave, head hung slightly forward and eyes lowered to his hands as he played nervously with his fingers in his lap, watching them and jumping up when he heard John say “hi”. After that it had quickly gone from bad to worse. It appeared that Ringo had been avoiding him intentionally for a while, afraid of what he might say or think. Confused, John had asked why on earth he’d need to avoid him at all and when Ringo had looked up at him with that apologetic look in his eyes, he knew what was coming. Suddenly, he just knew. Ringo feeling nervous whenever he was around him, refusing to talk very long about the band, meeting up lead singers of other bands, it all made sense. Ringo was leaving the band. For Rory fucking Storm and his stupid Hurricanes.

They had asked Ringo a few weeks ago whether he’d want to join their band, and first Ringo had refused, because he was already in John’s band, but soon that had changed. John didn’t know how they had managed it, but they had gotten themselves a job at a club in Hamburg, Germany. They would be playing regularly at this club for about three or four months and would be offered a couple of rooms above the club to dump their stuff and sleep. They would be paid rather a little, considering the long crappy hours and the fact that they would need to go all the way to Germany, but it was an offer Ringo hadn’t been able to pass up on.

“This is a wonderful opportunity, John! You have to understand that! And they are actually _good,_ you know. Not like our crap band. This might get me somewhere in the business!” Ringo had told him.

“But we’re getting a manager, Richie! And we can just dump all those other guys. We’re great, you and I,” John had replied, looking up at Ringo pleadingly, but Ringo had only bit his bottom lip before shaking his head.

“Sorry, John. But the band is falling apart and who knows if we can find some people good enough to join any time soon. And that manager you’re talking about doesn’t even have any experience!” Ringo said, and sighed. “I’m sorry, John. But I can’t pass this up. You know I can’t.”

And that had been it. John had tried to convince him otherwise, but Ringo’s mind had been set on going to join Rory Storm and his band and go off to Hamburg with them, and so that was what he was going to do, leaving John behind in Liverpool. And so John had lost again another friend, his band and his future at once. So yeah, John was allowed to feel sorry for himself.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Cynthia enter the canteen with a group of her friends. Quickly, he leaned forward over the table, hoping she would be too busy talking to her friends to notice him, as he kept an eye out for her from the corner of his eye. Sadly, though, she did notice him. She stopped at his table, carrying her own tray of food, and considered him a short while, before turning to her friends and telling them she’d be right back. They nodded and walked off to their own table, leaving Cynthia behind. She was still studying him, biting her lip as she thought of what to do. Finally, she sat down opposite him and took his milk carton from him, putting it safely aside and away from John’s pointy pencil.

“Tell me what’s up,” she simply said, leaning forward and trying to catch his eye. He growled something inaudible in return, hoping she’d get the hint and get lost. She didn’t.

“John, I can see something’s up. Tell me. Maybe I can help,” she tried again, reaching for John’s hand, but he swiftly pulled it back.

“I’m fine, Cyn. Just go be with your friends. They’re probably waiting for you.”

“No, I won’t. Something’s wrong with you and I’m your friend and friends are there to help each other. Now, tell me or I’ll never go away,” Cynthia said firmly, but John only let out a sad chuckle and shook his  head. “John, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“You can’t help me, Cyn. Not unless you can play piano, guitar, bass and drums at the same time,” John told her. Cynthia frowned at that and leaned a little closer to her friend.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s the band, Cyn” John finally said with a deep and tired-sounding sigh, “It’s falling apart. No one wants to stick around; Stuart is going away to Germany and Ringo has found himself a new band to play around with and is off to Hamburg to play gigs are their new drummer. How can Mr Epstein manage me fucking band if I’m the only one in it! That’s no fucking band, Cyn. That’s a fucking joke of a solo act.”

“The others are leaving, too, then?”

“Of course they are. They can’t play for shit and never wanted to be famous in the first place. Of course they’re chickening out. Fucking hell, Cyn! What do I do? This whole band is my last chance at a decent life! My grades are crap, my attitude and reputation are even worse. I can’t go to university like I wanted and no boss in their right mind would hire me.”

“John, you don’t know that. Maybe-”

“Don’t I, Cyn?” John interrupted her and right away she knew it was futile to try to talk any sense into him.

“Well,” she said instead, “maybe I can’t play an instrument, but Paul can.”

“Paul?” John asked, trying his best to refrain from laughing in her face.

“Yeah, why not? You should be like a duo and be called McCartney and Son, or something. I mean, I don’t know… I’m not good at coming up with band names, but it’s an idea?” She said and John looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, not quite certain whether she was being serious or not. When he saw the smile on her face, he groaned, shaking his head and taking letting it rest in his hands.

“Cyn! I can’t ask Paul! How do you think that’s going to look? And it’s not like he’d want to. He’s going to marry my mother in a few months! He won’t have time to play rock star with me, going from cheap club to cheap club to wedding party.”

“Well, maybe someone else? We could hold auditions? Or find a band you can join?”

“But I don’t want to _join_ a band, Cyn! I want it to be _my_ band. Ugh… It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like it’ll last. Everybody always leaves me, anyway. It’s like a law of nature.”

“John, not everybody is always leaving you. You’ve got plenty of people around you who love you!”

“Cyn, dear, my whole life people have been abandoning me. First my father, then my mother, then uncle George, now Stuart and Ringo, and the one person I truly love is going to marry my mother! And those are the important people! You’re going to abandon me too, when you’re off marrying that cunt of a Barry,” John said, listing off every person on his fingers, before looking back down at his pencil, wishing he still had his milk carton. Another thing that had abandoned him.

“I won’t abandon you, John. We’ll still be friend after I’ve gotten married!” Cynthia said, but John only scoffed at that.

“No, we won’t. You’ll be too busy popping out babies and teaching and cleaning and cooking hot meals for Barry. You won’t have time for me and soon you’ll have forgotten all about me. I know how it goes, Cyn.”

“No, John. I won’t. You’re my friend. I’ll always be there for you. You’re always welcome.”

“Do you promise that?”

“Of course, I do,” Cynthia said, taking John’s hand in her own and giving it an encouraging squeeze as she smiled it him. Right away John felt a little bit better, wishing Cynthia would be able to keep that promise, but already knowing she wouldn’t be able to. Everyone always left him. Even Paul…

“John, you are going to be fine, you hear me? Stuart isn’t gone yet and neither am I. And you still have your mother and sister and your aunt. Paul still loves you, doesn’t he? You’ll find something, John. You’ll be okay.”

“He doesn’t.”

“What?”

“Paul. He doesn’t love me. Not anymore,” John admitted with a sigh. It was true. Paul hadn’t spoken or even so much at looked at him since they had been in bed together. He always pretended to be busy and avoided to be alone in a room with him at all costs. Whenever John would try to talk to him, he’d just push past him and walk out of the room without a word or so much as a glance at his direction and it hurt. It physically hurt to see to be ignored by the one person he truly loved. It was the end of them, he knew that now. Paul was going to marry Julia and John was going to move out and they’d never ever talk about anything that had happened between them ever at all, pretending it had never happened. All because John hadn’t been able to shut his mouth.

“What do you mean he doesn’t love you, anymore? Did you broke up?” Cynthia asked, but all John could do was shrug, not knowing really how to explain what had happened. Let alone of they had broken up. Had they?

“He’s been ignoring me. He doesn’t even so much as look at me. It’s over, Cyn. That’s the worst, you know. Finally, I meet this great guy who I truly love and everything is just working against us and now I’ve gone and fucked it up.”

            Paul sat silently at the kitchen table, trying to read a newspaper, but not a word seemed to get through to him. He had felt absolutely awful since walking out on John that night a few days ago. He could still remember how he looked, with his cheeks still flushed and his shirt thrown over his body to cover himself for him, trying to put him at ease. His lips had been red and broken, looking utterly inviting, and his eyes had been wide and dark, a lusty haze covering them. He had looked so handsome and sexy, knelt on the bed, hair a mess, but it had been so _wrong._

He wasn’t stupid. He had known that after he and Julia would be married he’d become John’s step-dad, but he had never quite realised it until that moment, when he had heard the name “Daddy” fall from John’s lips. It was too weird. He loved John. He admired him, he thought of him as sexy and desirable. He thought him cute and clever, talented and creative. He wanted to wake up in the mornings and see him still asleep beside him, lips slightly parted as he lightly snored, forehead resting against his shoulder. He wanted to make him breakfast and spend all day walking around the house naked and cuddling together and having sex in all the strange places. He wanted to play guitar with him, sings songs with him, write songs for him, listen to him sing and have John sketch him, but this time with him there to model for him. He wanted John look at him with love reflected in his eyes and lean up on his toes to kiss him any chance he got. That wasn’t how a person should feel and think about their soon-to-be step-son. It was too weird, too disturbing. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t looking forward to being a dad. He would love to be Jules’s step-dad and to muck around with her, help her with her homework, teach her valuable lessons and get angry at her when she would creep out of the house late at night to hang around with certain boys and girls. He was looking forward to be a dad himself, rather than just look after other people’s kids. But he didn’t want to be John’s step-dad. He couldn’t be John’s step-dad. He loved John. John was his _lover._

But he couldn’t just not marry, Julia. He loved Julia. Leaving her would be horrible and he was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her. Not for the first time, he wished John had been his student rather than Julia’s son. That would have been much easier. Being John’s step-dad, though… the thought weirded him out.

As always, he had started to avoid John. He wouldn’t look at him without thinking he was going to be that lad’s dad. That they would be _family_ instead of lovers. It hurt seeing how much his actions were affecting John, but he needed some time to gather his thoughts and think about this. He wasn’t certain why he hadn’t realised it quite as much before. After all, he and John had talked about the marriage and their coming break-up often enough for him to actually realise John wouldn’t only be his ex, but his step-son as well. That he would have slept with his step-son, taking his virginity (in a way) and kissed him so many times. That he had touched him in all those places where one should never, never touch their step-son. The thought actually made him sick. So he needed some time to think about it and decide what to do. Until then, he was going to have to avoid John as much as possible, needing a clear mind.

Talking and looking at Julia hadn’t been much easier. She looked so much like her son that it weirded Paul out even more. So he tried to keep away from her as much as possible as well. That, however, was much more difficult.

“Paul! I was just looking for you. What are you doing in the kitchen? You alright?” Julia asked as she stepped in through the door. Paul had already heard her come down the stairs, so he wasn’t too surprised when he heard her voice. He looked up from his paper and looked behind him to see Julia standing rather nervously in the doorway, biting her lip.

“What is it, luv?” Paul asked, nodding at  the empty seat opposite him to tell her to sit down. She did so and Paul briefly glanced up at her to meet her eye, before quickly looking away. Her eyes were just as brown as John’s and her smile just as charming. She smiled at him and reached for his hand, which she took. She raised it and kissed the back of it with her lips before laying it in her lap.

“I know this might sound sudden and a bit odd, but I’ve been thinking and I think it might be a good idea of you were to adopt Jules officially.”

“Officially?” John asked, frowning, but Julia still nodded.

“In case something happens. I mean, you never know, right?” Julia asked, biting her lip and Paul had to look away from her; she reminded him of John too much, making it clear they were mother and son. God, what had he been thinking!

“You want me to adopt the kids?”

“Yes! Well, Jules. John is eighteen. He can look out for himself, but Jules… you never know what will happen in the future and she absolutely adores you as her new father. I’m sure she’d love it,” Julia said and Paul nodded, thinking it over, unsure what to think let alone what to say. When Julia noticed his muted reaction, her face fell.

“If you don’t want to, than that’s fine of course. I just thought-“

“No! I’d like to! It’s just… I… I’ve never been a dad before. I don’t even know how to do that! Maybe she would be better off with Mimi if something were to happen,” Paul lied. It was far from the truth. He’d love to have kids and for Jules to be officially his. His own little family. But John… It was too weird.

“Paul,” Julia said, interrupting the man’s train of thought as she took his hands, “you’ll be a great dad. I know you will be. You were great with them, both of them, and Jules adores you. You will be fine. Besides, it’s not like anything will truly happen to me. It’s only just in case. Jules would appreciate it greatly, I know that.” She smiled at him again and Paul forced a smile in return, nodding. It would only be Jules, after all. And he loved Jules as a daughter. John would be fine on his own, so he would only be Jules’s father officially. And Julia was right. If anything were to happen to her, it would be best for Jules to stay with him. He nodded again more resolutely and Julia’s smile widened.

“Oh, great! I was so scared you were going to say no…” Julia admitted and Paul chuckled at that as he shook his head.

“I’ll do it, Julia. You’re right. It will be better for her,” Paul said and Julia leaned in to kiss him. A kiss Paul gladly returned.

“Thank you, Paul. It’s for the best, I think,” she said and Paul nodded before kissing her lips back, pressing his own against them and closing his eyes, trying to block out any thoughts of John. But he couldn’t. He pulled away.

“Are you okay?” Julia asked. Paul smiled at her as he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, even though that was far from the truth. He pressed one last kiss to her cheek, before getting up and walking away and upstairs, needing to be alone for a while and think it all through. He needed to come up with a plan. He needed to talk to John…

            It was already late when John stood on the front door of Brian’s house. He hadn’t gone home after school, not feeling like being in the same house as the man he loved and not being able to talk to him or touch him or to look him straight in the eye. He had had dinner at Cynthia’s, after which he had wondered the streets for a bit, before deciding he was going to have to talk to Brian about Ringo. He had put it off as long as possible, not wanting to face the truth, but he knew he was going to have to someday and it appeared that day was now.

Ringing the bell, he waited nervously for Brian to open the door. They hadn’t spoken since Brian had tried to come on to him and John was afraid it was going to be awkward between them, so when Brian finally swung open the door, he smiled and kept a safe distance as he followed Brian inside and into the living room again. He took the same seat as a few days before, but this time declined the drink. With his emotional state being as it was, it was better not to.

“So? What did you want to tell me?” Brian asked as he sat down on the couch beside him, this time with a decent and polite distance between them. Not to closer, not too far away. Just right. It put John at ease.

“I talked to Ringo. He’s quitting,” he said with a deep sigh.

“Ah,’ Brian said, sounding honestly disappointment, “I see…”

“It’s over now, isn’t it?” John asked, looking up at Brian with wide eyes, watching as the older man licked along his bottom lip. He cheeks heated at the sight.

“I’m sorry, John.” Brian said and John nodded as he quickly looked away and down at the carpet.

“It’s okay,” he said as reply with a long deep sigh, “I thought so.”

“I had hoped better for you. I truly did,” Brian said, shuffling a little closer to John and carefully lying a hand on his arm, trying to sooth him. John glanced at his arm in shock, feeling his cheeks heat up even more, the simple touch having reminded him of the last time Brian had touched him. How he had jumped up in shock at the sudden touch, not wanting to betray Paul. At that time, he hadn’t. He had refused Brian, because Paul had loved him and he didn’t want to betray him. But now… Paul didn’t love him anymore. The thought was enough to make tears appear in his eyes, but he blinked them away. He had fucked things up between them and now Paul was going to break up with him and marry his mother to live their happily ever after. Without him.

Everybody was having things they wanted. Stuart had been accepted into that art school of his, Ringo was going to make money as a musician in a band, Julia was going to marry a man who loved her and cared for her, Paul was going to have his perfect family life with the person he loved most, Cynthia was going to marry someone who could provide for her and still work as a teacher like she wanted… And in the meantime, he lost everything. His lover, his future, his band, his chance at success. He was so utterly alone and everyone had now truly left him, no matter what Cynthia said. And why couldn’t have get what he wanted, too? Here he sat, on a large couch next to a rather attractive man who liked him and wanted him, so why should he refuse him even now? Why should he still refuse now that things were over between him and Paul. No one loved him anymore, except Brian. And really, John just wanted to be loved.

Feeling a sudden sense of determinism, John glanced up at Brian, turning his head to him and locking eyes with him as he licked his bottom lip, seeing how the older man would react. Sure enough, his gaze lowered to John’s lips, if only briefly and John recognised that look of longing in his eyes, remembering having seen it on Paul. The memory hurt him and angered him. It seemed to mock him almost now. He pushed the thought back and shuffled a little closer to Brian instead.

“John?” Brian asked, seeing what the younger man was doing, but he didn’t stop and Brian didn’t stop him. He merely continued to watch him as he moved closer and held his gaze. When he was close enough, he reached over for him, mimicking what Brian had done to him some days ago, and laid his hand on his thigh, making his intent clear. Lust flashed across Brian’s eyes and he let out a shaky breath as John leaned in and cocked his head to the side. He could feel the older man’s breath on him. He smelled different from Paul. Less sweet and more musky. John wasn’t sure what to think of it. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t as good as Paul. But Paul was gone. They were over. That last thought seemed to do the trick and he leaned forward the last bit and he firmly pressed his lips against Brian’s, feeling the blood rush through them as he messaged them with his own. There was no shock. No electricity. No rush. No pounding of his heart. Just touch. Disappointed, John pressed himself harder against Brian, hoping for anything more that he had missed. Anything that would at least resemble the excitement and rush of pure love he felt whenever his lips touched Paul’s.

Brian remained unmoving at first, probably shocked by what was happening, not understanding how it could have happened, when John had refused him only days before. John lips felt nice against his, thin and rough, but dominating and intoxicating. He shuddered against him and he let his hands rest on John’s shoulder and his hip as he started to kiss back. When he heard himself moan, he realised what made John refuse him in the first place that first time and, shocked, he pulled away from John, jumping a feet away from him as he stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?!” he asked and John frowned as he reached up for his lips and touched them, not understanding what had gone wrong with the kiss. He hadn’t felt… well, anything. Just touch. And then no touch. Finally, he looked up at Brian and flushed as he saw him staring at him.

“I-I just…”

“You said you already had someone,” Brian said and it sounded accusatory. John felt a rush of shame rush through him, remembering his promise to Paul that he would never have sex with another man as long as he had him. But he didn’t have him, did he? Or did he? It was all very confusing.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I felt lonely,” John heard himself answer. He frowned at himself, before looking up at Brian again, unsure what to do next.

“I-I can’t, John… not when you’re with someone else. Not when it doesn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.” He said and got up from the couch. He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the fireplace, taking a deep breath.

“It’s Paul, isn’t it? Paul McCartney? You’re with him, aren’t you?” Brian suddenly asked and John looked up at shock.

“H-how d-di-did you k-know?” John stammered, feeling incredible uncertain about everything all of a sudden. Brian sighed and shook his head.  “Is it obvious?” John asked. He felt relieved when Brian shook his head.

“No. Unless you know where to look. He got quite jealous at me for flirting with you. I didn’t see it as that before, but I understand it now.”

“I-I’m sorry. For kissing you,” John said, but Brian shook his head.

“I think it will be for the best if personal and professional contact ends here, John.,” the older man said and John had never felt so relieved as he was then. He nodded, got up from the couch, pulled his coat back on and let Brian walk him to the door.

“I am sorry,” John said again, and this time Brian smiled as he nodded.

“Just be careful, John. It’s a mean world out there. But if Paul loves you as much as I think he does and you as much I think you love him, you’re going to be just fine,” he told him and John nodded as he offered Brian his hand, not sure what to say to that, feeling awfully embarrassed about what he had done. Brain shook it and leaned in to give John one last kiss on his forehead before he turned around and closed the door, leaving John alone on his doorstep, confused and embarrassed, wishing Paul was there with him to tell him he loved him and that they were going to be fine. But instead, Paul was probably happily at home, kissing and cuddling with Julia, fantasizing about their wedding and trying to forget all about John, while he was here outside in the cold, alone. Even the guy who fancied him having turned him down. 

* * *

 

John let the front door fall close behind him with a loud thud, not even caring who heard him. He didn’t care about anything anymore. What did he have to care about now with Paul having left him, his friends having abandoned him, and the band being officially over and with that his future. He hated his life. Why couldn’t things ever go right for him? Even Brian wouldn’t have him anymore.  

Growling curses at himself and his miserable life in general, John shrugged off his coat and toed off his shoes, both of which he just threw down onto the floor, not bothering to put them away properly. He grabbed his backpack, threw it over his shoulder and made his way to the stairs, intending to lock himself in his room for the rest of the day and listen to his records as loudly as he wanted and write angry poems. Life, however, proved to be even more of a prick when the kitchen door opened right in front of him, making him stand face-to-face with Paul. They stared at each other, both unsure what to say or do, until John decided he’d had enough.      

“I’m going upstairs,” John grumbled at the older man and roughly pushed past him as he made his way to the stairs. Paul, however, grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Wait!”

“For what, Paul? You ignored me for almost three days and then you just expect me to listen to you?!” John snapped at him, refusing to even turn around and look at him. He suspected his words must have hurt, because Paul remained silent for a while, his hold on him lessening briefly, but John made no attempt to escape.

“I-I’m sorry,” the man finally said, but John scoffed at that, “I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“Can we at least talk now?”

“No.”

“John-”

“No, Paul. Fuck you! You’ve ignored me for three days while my life was going like shit after you left without even saying a damn word to me. You wouldn’t even fucking _look_ at me, Paul. And now you think you can just make it all right? We don’t need to talk, Paul. I understood we were fucking done the moment you walked away on me. I don’t need you to tell me, okay?” John snapped, feeling his throat constricting, but he bit down his lip to fight away any emotion that tried to get into his voice. He tried tugging his hand free, but Paul wouldn’t let go of him.

“John, luv, you don’t understand…” Paul started, but John interrupted him before he could continue, not wanting to hear it.

“Don’t fucking call me that! Now, let go of me, Paul. I don’t have to fucking listen to you. You might be able to go on like nothing fucking happened, but _I_ don’t. Now, get your hands off me,” John ordered and Paul finally released his wrist. Right away, John pulled his hand to his chest, wanting to be as far away from the other man as possible.

“I’m going upstairs. Stay the fuck away from me,” John added and with that, he started to walk away, not looking back at Paul and only going up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, before throwing himself face down onto his bed.  

            Paul didn’t come to his room that day, and neither did his mother or sister, meaning Paul probably told them about how he was feeling. They didn’t even call him down for dinner. Instead they simply left some food at his door and came back to collect the empty plate about forty minutes later, when they left him a mug of tea. John wasn’t angry enough not to eat or drink, so he ate his dinner and drank his tea silently in his room as he looked at Paul’s old pictures that he still kept beneath his pillow, silently wishing Paul would show up at his door anyway and apologise and tell him he loved him and that he wasn’t alone and he wouldn’t leave him. But that didn’t happen.

Wiping away a few tears from the old photographs, he finally put them back underneath his pillow. What was he doing anyway, looking at old photographs of an ex-lover who was disgusted by him and didn’t want to have anything to do with that part of their relationship anymore? He had lost Paul. He had lost everything in his life and everyone was happy except for him. It was like the universe itself was mocking him.

It wasn’t even that he was really angry. He wasn’t angry at Paul or Brian or Stuart or even Ringo. He was mostly angry with himself. For what a fuck-up he was. Perhaps his teachers had been right. He was going nowhere with his life and would sooner end up in prison than live a happy life. The worst of it was that he had kissed Brian. He shouldn’t have done that; he could see that now. It wasn’t fair. Not to Brian, not to him, not to Paul. He should never have done it, but then why did he continue to make all those terrible mistakes? Why did he have to fuck everything up? Why couldn’t he do anything well?

Sighing, he put on a Buddy Holly record and sat down at his little desk where he picked up a pencil and opened his little notebook. He mindlessly skimmed through it, smiling sadly at his old doodles about him and Paul, at old love-struck lyrics and almost sickening poems. He missed Paul. He really did. He wanted him to come to his room and talk it out, but Paul wouldn’t come anymore. Because he had fucked that up even worse.

            John watched Paul silently from the bathroom window. It was already evening and the only light that shone into the garden was that coming from the house and weak light of the moon and the stars. He couldn’t help but wonder if Paul wasn’t cold out there, sitting in one of the garden chairs having a smoke as he petted a stray cat, scratching it sweetly behind its ear as he talked to it in a hushed voice. He looked beautiful as he sat there and John wished he could go back in time and never tease Paul with Brian and that stupid jealousy thing. The strange thing was that he still felt like he had somehow betrayed Paul in kissing Brian. That he had cheated on him, even though he knew it was bullshit. After all, Paul had made it more than obvious how he felt about him and that he didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore and that their relationship was over. But then why did he feel this way? And why did Paul look so sad as he sat there?

Groaning, he took his head in his hands and rubbed his temples in frustration. Why had he gone and fucked it up so bad? He had never realised how hard it was to love someone who didn’t love you back. To know what it was like with that person and how well the two of you worked together and how his lips tasted, his hair smelled, his laugh sounded and how save you felt in their arms, but not being able to have any of those things ever again because you made a mistake. It was a heartless cruelty to have to see that person every day and not being able to kiss them or touch them and see them smile at everyone else but you. It had hurt when Paul had ignored him, but this was even worse, because Paul wanted to talk to him. But John already knew what he was going to say and what he wanted wasn’t the same thing he wanted. He wanted Paul, all of Paul, but Paul didn’t want him. Because he was going to be his stepson and that was just too weird. He couldn’t love his stepson like he loved him now, so it was better not to love him at all. John swallowed thickly at that, refusing to cry. He wouldn’t cry.

            It was a cold evening, but Paul didn’t want to go back inside, all of it in there reminding him of John in one way or another, making it more and more difficult to stay away from him. He felt terrible for how he had treated John, and he figured the least he could do for him was respect his wishes, even if it was painful for him. John had suffered enough already after all, and now it was his turn.

The grey stray cat had taken a seat in his lap and was happily purring as Paul ran his fingers through the animal’s fur and scratched him behind his ear. The animal was warm and at least offered him some sense of companionship and comfort. Even though he would still prefer to have John by his side instead. Then again, it was his own fault that he wasn’t, so perhaps this was his rightful punishment. He had treated John badly after he had freaked out on him, and it hadn’t been fair. After all, it had only been a stupid mistake and John hadn’t meant anything with it, so it wasn’t his fault he had reacted to strongly. He should have been open to him and told him what he felt and not left him alone and ignored him. He had known how hard things were on John already, and then he had gone and left him as well. John had every right to be angry at him. It was only understandable he didn’t want to talk.

Sighing, he looked up at the stars above him, wishing they could tell him what to do. But of course they couldn’t. They were only stars after all. A snap of a twig startled him, causing him to jump in his chair as he turned his head into the direction of the sound. The stray cat had jumped up from his lap at his sudden movements and was scurrying away, clambering over the fence and into the neighbours garden. But Paul didn’t mind that much. Not when he saw John walking over to him, hands in his pockets and a scarf wrapped around his neck against the cold. He stared at him as he watched him approach him, unsure what to do, not having expected him to come look for him at all. Not after that afternoon’s outburst.

Although it was dark, Paul could see John had been crying; his eyes were red and he had deep lines in his face, making him look tired. For a moment Paul doubted if John actually knew he was there, as he kept his eyes firmly lowered to the ground, but then he stopped right in front of him and he looked up, their eyes locking. There was no surprise to be found on his face.

“I-I’m sorry… for snapping at you this afternoon,” he said, as he played with the hem of his shirt, looking unsure about what to do. Paul sat up a bit more in his chair, leaning forward and closer to John.

“You’re apologising?” he asked and John gave him a uncertain smile.

“I’ve been doing that a lot recently,” he answered and Paul shook his head, unsure if it was really meant as a joke or not.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said after a brief moment of silence, “I’m the one who should be sorry, I-“

“I kissed Brian.”

“You kissed Brian?” Paul asked, the words feeling foreign on his lips. John bit his lip as he nodded, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just… didn’t know what else to do, I guess.” Paul stared up at him, unsure what to say or do, not having expected those words at all from the younger man. Finally, after a long and awkward silence he nodded.

“You’re not angry?” John asked and Paul sighed.

“I’m not angry. How could I be angry at you?”

“You’re not serious?”

“I don’t know how I feel if I’m honest, but it isn’t anger. Am I even allowed to feel anger or betrayal at something like that when I’m doing the same thing to you every day?”

“But isn’t that different?”

“Why would it be?” Paul asked with a sigh as he let his head hang down between his shoulders, staring down at the grass that moved slowly in the light breeze. “I love you, John. Shouldn’t that be enough? Why are we still here? Fighting because of a future in which I can’t make the right choice? Why haven’t we just left. Fuck all and do what feels right? Why, for the love of God, are we still here?”

“Because live isn’t that easy. And love certainly not,” John answered, stepping closer to the older man and kneeling before him, searching for his eyes as he offered him a gentle smile. Paul’s heart fluttered at that, smiling sadly at the love he saw shining in his eyes.

“You should all adult-like now,” he said with an amused grin that John quickly matched with one of his own.

“Well,” he said, “I _am_ eighteen.” Paul chuckled at that.

“That must be it, then,” he joked along and looked deep into the younger man’s eyes as he laughed at that, his own smiling slowly fading away, “I am sorry for ignoring you these few days, John. I shouldn’t have. I knew how hard things were on you and I should have been there for you, but honestly, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore.”

“I shouldn’t have called you that, Paul. It was only a mistake, I swear! I didn’t mean anything with it. It’s just a stupid kink.”

“I know it is, John. I just freaked. Because… I-I don’t know how to be a father, you know? And it just hit me then that I was going to be a father. For Jules, but in a way for you, too. And I just freaked-“

“You will _never_ be my father, Paul,” John quickly interrupted him, but Paul raised his hand, motioning him to hold his tongue.

“Please,” he said, “just let me say this, because I should have told you this before I stormed out of your bedroom and ruined everything. Because you can say I will not be your father, and I know I won’t, but people will still see me as your step-father when I’ve married Julia, while I really want to be your lover. A-and it would feel wrong, you know. Because I love you, you know I do, but as a lover, not a son. Never as son, but when I’ve married Julia… I can’t go on pretending to love you as a father, when I will always remember you as my lover.”

He lowered his eyes as he finished what he had wanted to say, looking back down at the grass and hoping for the best. He could feel John’s body heat radiation off him, with how close he was sitting. He felt oddly vulnerable in John’s presence now he had opened his heart to him. It was strange to feel that way around a young man half his age, but yet here he was, scared of what John was going to say. When he suddenly felt John’s warm hand on his knee, he looked up in shock, accidentally locking eyes with him. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw the tender look on the younger man’s face.

“You had to think of all of that just because I called you ‘Daddy’ in bed?” he asked, sounding somewhat amused, and when he nodded, John let out a chuckle before cupping Paul’s cheeks in his hands and placing a sweet kiss on the man’s lips, taking him by surprise, earning himself a gasp that quickly turned into a moan as Paul melted into his touch, having missed the feeling of his lips against his lips, skin against his skin, breath caressing his face. When John pulled away again, he looked up at him in shock.

“What was that for?” he asked and John chuckled as he shrugged.

“I love you. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, but when Paul only blinked blankly at him, he added, “Because you think too much and because I’m just really happy you don’t find me disgusting.”

“Disgusting?” Paul asked in even greater surprise.

“Yeah… I er… when you ran away from me, I thought you were weirded out by the fact that you were about to have sex with your future stepson who had a daddy-kink and the hots for fucking his stepdad – which, by the way, isn’t true – and that you thought that was too weird and frankly rather disgusting and would leave me,” John answered truthfully with a blush creeping up on his cheeks as he let out a doubtful laugh. Paul stared at him, before laughing as well.

“How could you ever think I would think that about you?” he asked, and John blushed even redder as he looked away from Paul, afraid to meet his eyes.

“Because you are far too sexy and wonderful to waste your time on me and even after all this time I still cannot understand what someone like you would see in someone like me. Apart from my stunning good look and great arse, of course,” he answered and Paul chuckled leaned in to kiss him, pulling up his chin with two of his fingers to make John meet his face, as he kissed him forcefully, showing him just how much he loved him through that kiss, leaving John breathless.

“I’m not even going to answer that question, because it’s a stupid question to ask in the first place, you hear me?” Paul told him sternly and John chuckled at that as he nodded and leaned in to kiss Paul again, happy to finally be able to hold him and touch him again after all those days he had spent alone, thinking Paul despised him. Which reminded him.

“So, you’re really not angry at me for kissing Brian? Or that I called you ‘Daddy’?” John asked and Paul shook his head at the question without even thinking about it.

“No, John. As long as you don’t ever kiss him again. As for the Daddy-thing… let’s just leave that for what it is.”

“Just so you know, I won’t ever think of you as anything other than my lover. And people will always think of our relationship as something else than what it truly is, so in the end it doesn’t matter what they think we are, does it?” John asked and Paul thought about that for a bit, before he laughed again, leaning in and letting his forehead rest against John’s.

“You really are a wise old man, aren’t you, luv?” he asked, making John laugh.

“And what does that make you? Ancient?” he joked, but Paul shook his head.

“A god, of course!” he answered him and John rolled his eyes at that, before Paul kissed him again, cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss and slip his tongue into John’s warm and familiar mouth, having missed kissing him like that. When the pulled away, John got up and grabbed himself a chair to sit with Paul as he took a package of smokes from his pocket. Paul watched him curiously as he lit one and took it from his lover as he offered it to him, parting his lips to allow John to put it between his lips. John did so without so much as a comment, before he lit his own and leaned back in the chair and looked up at the sky as he smoked. Paul followed his example, but soon closed his eyes, simply enjoying the sound of the bird singing and the crickets chirping. He jumped slightly as he suddenly felt John’s pink wrap itself around his, but quickly relaxed and smiled as he let John lock them together. It was only about half an hour later that Julia called them inside, sounding rather angry at them as she feared they would catch a cold, but still it was too soon for Paul’s liking, having wished to stay like that with John a little longer.

“D’you think we should head back separately? Julia might get suspicious otherwise,” John joked from where he was sitting and Paul glanced at him as he laughed, glad John had decided to come down to talk to him.

“I love you,” he whispered, watching as John’s lips curled up in a smile at that.

“I love you, too,” he replied and started to get up. Paul followed his movements with his eyes, not wanting to get up just yet and instead enjoy the view. “Oh, and in case you were wondering, you kiss much better than Brian,” John told him with a cheeky wink, before he turned around and started to walk back inside. Paul followed him not a minute after.

            “What were you and John doing in the garden, anyway? It was freezing out!” Julia asked as they were getting ready. Paul was already in bed, reading a book, or at least trying to, seeing as Julia kept interrupting him. Not that he would have been able to read much more otherwise, considering his mind was brought back to John after every other paragraph. He looked up at her and shrugged.

“Just talking. Trying to strengthen the bond, you know. It seems that he’s been growing fonder of me again, and we don’t want him to start causing trouble at the wedding, do you? I figure, the more time we spend together, the more he’ll start to like me, the less of a problem he’ll be at the wedding,” Paul said, surprising himself with how easy it had gotten to lie to her. Julia grinned at that as he pulled her nightgown over her head and down her body, governing it in a satin-like material that looked rather tantalising. Unknowingly, he licked his lips at the sight. Julia noticed, however, and she grinned knowingly as she made her way to her side of the bed, swaying her hips in a way that she knew would catch his attention.

“Don’t call me son a problem, Paul. He’s still my son, you know,” she said as she slid beneath the covers and shuffled closer to her soon-to-be-husband, arching her back a little to guide his gaze down to her breasts.

“I’m sorry, dear. I apologise,” Paul said as he looked up from her breasts and to her face, catching her eyes and giving her a seductive smile as he put his book aside and turned to her, reaching out for her and sliding a hand into her curly hair, stroking through it and down until his fingers brushed the straps of her nightgown and started to teasingly play with them, slowly easing them down her shoulder.

“You know, Pattie wants to take me shopping for my dress soon,” Julia spoke as she reached out for him as well, curling an arm around his waist to pull him closer to her as she hooked one of her ankles around Paul’s, stroking his feet with hers. Paul hummed to say he was listening as he lowered his gaze to the curve of his breast, watching them move as she breathed. “Well, I thought it might be a good idea if you would go find a suit with George soon, too. A nice one, of course. I bet you’d look so handsome.”

“I always look handsome,” Paul replied with a little smirk as he finally pulled the straps of the dress down her arms, lowering the dress and exposing more and more of her pale breasts. He had just been about to lean in and kiss them, when Julia caught his chin between her fingers and guided his eyes back up to meet hers.

“I can take John to buy a suit, if you’d rather go alone with George,” she suggested, but Paul shook his head as he leaned in to kiss her.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take him,” he whispered to her, and he had been about to kiss her when she turned her head away, refusing to allow him to kiss her just yet.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I mean, he might cause trouble,” she said, making Paul chuckle as he shook his head, letting his hand caress her arm soothingly.

“Julia. It’s fine, luv. I can handle John. He’ll behave. It’s only a suit,” he said and Julia sighed as his hand moved to cup her breasts, his thump brushing across her nipple.  

“If you’re certain…” she half-moaned, her eyes falling half close and Paul smiled as he leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

“We’ll be fine,” he promised her, before kissing her properly, and this time she let him, allowing him to kiss her and suckle on her tongue as he worked her breasts with his fingers, skilfully touching her in all the right places and quickly making her squirm and moan into his mouth, her legs falling apart for him. Paul was more than happy to lay between them and rolled on top of her as he lowered his mouth as and kisses his way down her jaw and neck, until he finally reached her breasts. She gasped as he took her nipple into his mouth and started to lightly nibble at it as he rolled the other with his tongue, making her wetter and wetter with every roll of his tongue.


	27. Chapter 27

It was a couple of weeks later that Paul found himself driving into the general direction of Scotland. It was going to be a long drive, but Paul didn’t mind so much. It had been a long time since he had felt this happy, and he wasn’t going to let John’s immature wailing ruin that. Especially because he knew John was only teasing him, trying to push his buttons like he always did. The kid just never learned.

They had left early in the morning when it wouldn’t be too busy on the road yet and John and Jules would still be half-asleep, leaving the car calm and quiet and without any bickering for at least the first hour and a half. The weather hadn’t been too great as usual, but at least it hadn’t been raining, and as time had progressed, the sun had come out more and more, occasionally shining through the thick clouds that were covering almost the entire sky. They had been driving for almost two and a half hours and Julia was trying hard to keep her two children entertained with some stupid car games and singing along to the radio. Paul was only happy to join in with the singing, but during the car games, he kept his attention to the road, feeling blessed to have the fact that he needed to concentrate while driving as an excuse.

“Yes! Yes! I saw one! I saw one!” Jules suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere, giving Paul almost a heart attack. “A car with a three in the licence plate. It was that red car. Next to the black one! I win!”

“Fuck! I was just saw it too!”

“Language John! And then you should have been quicker. Well done, sweetie. What number next? John?”

“Err… Se- no six! Found it!” John yelled, grinning like a madman. Paul couldn’t help but laugh, finding it hilarious to see John so involved in the game, despite being 18 years old and always holding up that tough image.

“No! That’s not fair! That’s cheating! Mum, John is cheating!” Jules complained trying desperately to slap John’s hands away as her older brother attacked her, obviously trying to annoy her as much as possible.

“John, pick another number. And _no_ looking, understood? And  leave your sister alone.” Julia told them sternly, looking over her shoulder to give John a firm glare to appease Jules, before winking at him with secret approval. John chuckled.

“Fine. Seven,” he agreed. Pleased, Jules pressed her nose against the window as watched all the cars go passed, eagerly searching for one with the number seven on it. Paul smiled for a moment as the noise quieted down behind him, glad they were once again distracted. Only, his moment of peace was short-lived.

“Paul? When are we going to stop. I need to use the bathroom!” John asked, interrupting the silence as he leaned forward, placing both hands on either side of Paul’s chair, letting his fingers secretly touch his shoulder as he breathed into his ear. Paul fought the urge to blush as he shot John a warning glare through his rear-view mirror, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes as he saw John grinning mischievously.

“John, we stopped like an hour ago. Won’t you keep it in?”

“I can never keep it in, Paul. Don’t you know?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Oh, am I?”

“John, stop bothering Paul. He’s dri-“

“Oh! Blue car! Number seven! I win,” John exclaimed, pointing past Paul’s head to the car that had just overtook them. Jules jumped over to him to have a look, whining as she saw the seven on the licence plate.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, making John grin as he glanced at his little sister from the corner of his eyes, feeling rather proud for learning her how to curse.

“Jules! Language!” Julia said again and Jules blushed as she sank back into the back seat, pouting.

“Sorry, Mum,” she muttered and Julia sighed, before turning back to John again.

“We’ll stop in an hour. You can-”

“But I can’t wait another hour!”

“I need to pee, too!” Jules brought in and Paul felt the need to lean his forehead against the steering wheel in annoyance, his happiness slowly vanishing from his mind.

“I’ll stop at the next gas station, if you two promise to be quiet until then, deal?” Paul suggested and both Jules and John looked up with wide grins on their face, and nodded. Paul could only hope they would keep their words. To make it a little easier on everyone, he put the radio on again, turning up the music, so he wouldn’t even hear them whisper if they felt the absolute need to open their mouths. He whined in embarrassment as he realised he must have been just as annoying when he was young and wished he had been easier on his dad, only now understanding how horrible it was.

“You love us though, don’t you, Paul?” John finally asked after a good five minutes of silence, and Paul gritted his teeth as he looked at John through his rear-view window.

“Do I?”

“Sure, you do. Though you love me best,” he said and Jules sat up at that, hitting her brother against his arm as he growled in objection. Paul, however, only grinned back at John, knowing he couldn’t possible say otherwise. When he felt Julia’s warm hand on his thigh, he turned to look at him, smiling at her reassuringly to tell her he was fine, before turning back to the road and hoping to find a gas station too, before the two in the back got worse.

          Finally, after almost thirty more minutes, Paul pulled over at the gas station, parking on the parking lot, as he didn’t actually needed to fill up on gas. Jules immediately unbuckled her seat-belt and climbed out of the car, needing to go really bad. Julia told her to wait, as she turned her head to Paul for a little peck, before getting out too, leaving Paul and John alone in the car as she wrapped an arm around her daughter and guided her to the bathrooms, after which they would buy everyone something to eat and drink for the rest of the way to their holiday destination.

Intending to wait by the car, Paul grabbed the newspaper and had just been about to step out of the car when John stopped him by laying a hand on his arm, firmly pulling him back. Paul turned around in confusement, wondering what John was still doing in the car if he needed to use the loo so badly, but before he had the chance to open his mouth to ask, John had pressed his lips firmly against Paul’s in a silencing Paul, leaving him unable to make any noise except for the surprised moan that escaped his lips.

“Good morning,” John simply said as he pulled away, giving Paul a wink as the older man stared at him, not saying anything as he blinked at him a few times, his mind working hard to grasp what was going on. “I didn’t have the chance to say that this morning, so… there is it.”

“How sweet,” Paul replied, unsure what else he could say to that. In truth, he felt rather flattered that John would still want to kiss him good morning.

“My kisses are always sweet,” John said smugly and Paul shot him a look.

“Cheeky,” he said, but leaned in to kiss him again, happy to finally be able to touch his lover now that they were alone. It had started to get more and more difficult for them not to show their affection when they were with other people, so Paul was grateful for times they were finally alone and he could finally touch John and look at him and show him how much he meant to him and just how sexy he was.

“Come on,” John said as he pulled away from Paul, “let’s go, yeah? I’m bursting.” He winked at Paul, before pulling back completely and getting out of the car. Before Paul had even had the chance to follow his example, John had already pulled his door open, making Paul laugh.

“You go, John. I’ll wait by the car,” he said but when John shook his head and tutted at that, he frowned.

“No way, Macca. That’s not going to work.”

“I don’t need to pee.”

“Who said anything about peeing? I was talking about something completely different,” John explained with a wink and Paul’s cheeks flushed pink as he realised what John meant. He swallowed thickly, before shaking his head. “Aw, come on, Paul. It has been ages!”

“It has been _yesterday_. Evening, even,” Paul reminded him with a grin, but John did not seem to fazed by that and only grinned back at him.

“Ah, but before that it was-“

“Wednesday.”

“Exactly, that is one day without sex. We need to make up for that. Come on. Just a quick blowjob in the bathroom and I’m happy, yeah?”

“John, those bathrooms are disgusting.”

“And you’re a damn prude,” John said with a scoff, stepping aside to let Paul out of the car, which the older man did as he shot death glares at John.

“I’m not a prude,” he retorted, making John chuckle as he smiled challengingly at him, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Prove it,” he challenged, and really, that was all Paul really needed to hear. He slammed the car door behind him, locked it and walked over to the bathrooms, not even looking behind himself to see if John was following him. He knew he was. Fuck it if those bathrooms were disgusting. It was going to be worth it. Because James Paul McCartney was not a prude.

          He had been right to assume John had been following. Thankfully, the bathrooms – which were truly as disgusting as Paul had thought – were empty, leaving the two men without enough choice to make sure they had the cleanest stall. John, however, did not seem to want to take advantage of that opportunity and instead grabbed Paul by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him against him, kissing him roughly and letting out a wanton moan against his plump lips, loving their sweet taste.

“Fuck, I missed this,” John moaned against Paul’s mouth as he urgently started pushing Paul into the direction of the nearest stall, chocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss as his fingers disappeared into Paul’s hair, pulling lightly.

“Again,” Paul muttered against John, who swallowed his words hungrily, “only yester-“

“Yes, I know. We had sex only yesterday. Now shut up and just let me enjoy this, yeah?” John grumbled, making Paul snicker as he nodded and allowed John to push him into a stall. With his foot, John kicked the door shut before he pressed Paul firmly against the stall door, licking hungrily into his mouth as he felt his body heat up against Paul’s. The older man kissed back just as hungrily, opening his mouth eagerly for John and suckling the boy’s tongue into his mouth as he wrapped his arms around him and groped John’s arse through his jeans, giving him a firm squeeze that got John moaning.

“Look who’s suddenly eager,” the younger man breathed as he broke the kiss the catch his breath, looking up into Paul’s eyes with a little smirk playing on his lips. Right away, Paul leaned down and kissed it off his face, liking it much more when John was too desperate to tease.          

Both of them knew, though, that they didn’t have much time, so John quickly surrendered to Paul’s dominant kisses and allowed him to take control as he himself stuck his hand between their bodies to grope Paul’s cock through his slacks, moaning when he felt him already hard in his palm.

“Fuck… I’d so let you fuck me right now,” John breathed into Paul’s open mouth as he squeezed Paul’s cock.

“I’ll keep you to that,” was Paul’s reply and he thrusted up into his lover’s hand with a lewd moan of encouragement. Even though he had his eyes closed, he could still picture John in his mind, his mouth watering as he imagined going down onto his knees for Paul and suck him off right there, wanting Paul to fuck his throat and pull the last hair out of his head, but knowing they couldn’t. They had to look presentable, after all. Paul could see how annoyed John would be by that, which would explain the hard, firm and almost violent jerks on his cock, as he boy leaned down to bury his face in the crook of Paul’s neck, suckling there and kissing his skin all over.

His cheek would be flushed, his lips red and already swollen, his pants tight around the bulge in his pants, pressing urgently against the zipper as it begged to be touched. John’s hair ruffled, his eyes glazed over with lust, ears a little red with arousal. God, the imagined sight was almost as sinful and tantalising as Paul knew John would look like, and he bit down his bottom lip as he breathed out John’s name, his hands moving squeezing John’s arse again, pulling him closer so their erections rubbed together and against John’s hand. The boy groaned at the sudden friction and captured Paul’s lips for another kiss, this time dominating it, as he rocked his hips up against Paul’s. Paul, however, grinned mischievously as he remembered John’s words.

“I thought you said something about a blow job?”

He could not have said anything better in that moment, as John’s immediately grinned against his lips, before going down on his knees, his eyes wide open and locked onto Paul’s as he let his hands caress Paul’s body as he lowered onto the filthy floor. Paul cracked an eye open and almost came at the sight of John knelt before him, hungrily looking up at him as he licked his lips so sinfully, already looking utterly debauched. For some reason, the dirtiness of the stall made it even better. There was toilette paper scattered on the floor and rude messages written all over the place, mostly in a fat black marker that Paul reminded him of those he used at work. Furthermore, there was old gum everywhere as well as cigarette buds and all kinds of stains everywhere, some of it Paul was sure was old dried up come, meaning they were not the only ones who used this loo for something other than relieving themselves. Or rather, another kind of relieving themselves.

Curiously, John’s hands moved up to the buttons of Paul’s slacks and quickly opened them, working fast to waste as little time as possible, after all they didn’t have long. Paul let out a deep breath as John snaked his hand into his underwear, wrapped his fingers around the shaft and pulled him free. Then, without giving Paul even a second to calm down, he leaned in an wrapped his lips around the head of Paul’s cock, slowly letting it slide into his mouth and earning himself a breathy moan.

“Shit… John,” Paul moaned, his fingers finding their way into the younger man’s hair to pull it out of his face and give him a better view as he looked down at him, watching in amazement as John went down on him, eyes locked on his all the time. The younger man winked up at him, before closing his eyes, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing his head up and down as he licked at the underside of Paul’s cock. Paul cursed at the intense pleasure it gave him and he let John take complete control as he simply leaned back and relaxed, letting John do what he wanted as he just went along for the ride.

John had gotten good at this since he had first given him a blowjob and Paul considered himself a very lucky man to be on the receiving end of John’s skillful mouth. It wasn’t even that John was exceptionally good, but just the fact that this was John and he had learned him all this and John wanted to please him, made it all so many, many times better.

Soon, and this was both a relief and a disappointed, as he would have loved to drag this out even longer, Paul could feel his orgasm approach. His stomach was swirling with pleasure and his balls had started to tighten, letting him know it would only be a matter of time before he would come. He pulled urgently at John’s hair, having lost the ability to use his voice to communicate, but thankfully John understood. He nodded and let Paul slide all the way into his mouth as he sucked, breathing through his nose as Paul had told him to do so many months ago.

Finally, when the younger man opened his eyes again and looked straight up at Paul, his lips spread wide around his cock that was slowly sliding in and out of him, Paul couldn’t hold back anymore. His fingers tightened in John’s hair and he bit down his hand as he came, shooting his spunk into John’s mouth and down his throat, allowing John to drink it as he continued to suck him off, letting him ride it out. His orgasm was wonderful and he felt his knees tremble, almost daring to give out on him, so John rested his hand on John’s shoulder to keep himself up. When his orgasm subsided, he threw back his head against the door with a loud thud as he let out a deep sigh, enjoying it when John pulled off and started licking him clean.

“Shit, John,” Paul muttered, sounding completely out of breath as he looked down at his lover and when he winked at him, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Gently, he pulled his head from his cock and tugged, signalling John to stand up, which he quickly did. Immediately, as soon as John’s mouth was close enough, Paul kissed him hard on the lips, licking into his mouth and moaning his lover’s name to show how thankful he was as his own hand moved south and into John’s jeans. The younger man gasped at the touch of Paul’s cold fingers against his heated flesh.

“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come with me?” John asked, his voice a little croaky, but nothing that was truly noticeable, and Paul moved his lips down to kiss at John’s jaw as he started jerking him off. John moaned at that touch, his head falling forward so his forehead rested against Paul’s shoulder as he grabbed at Paul’s arms with his hands, holding onto him as he let Paul please him.

John’s throbbing flesh felt hot in Paul’s hand and the tip was already glistening wet. John was so far down already after those intense kisses and sucking Paul off that Paul knew it wasn’t going to take long to make the younger man come, which was a blessing as he wasn’t sure how long they had been gone already. John was shuddering against him, moaning Paul’s name and begging him to touch him, to make him come. Paul buried his nose into the younger man’s hair and kissed his head as he tightened his grip and gently whispered to him that he could come. John whined at that, but nodded and clutched at Paul as he allowed pleasure to take over his body. John caressed his body with his free hand as he sped up his movements on John’s cock, pulling his orgasm closer and closer, until finally, John came with a shudder and a wail, soiling Paul’s hand with his come. But Paul did not care. Instead, he wrapped a protective arm around John to shelter him as he came in his hand, trembling and moaning in pleasure, his nails disappearing into the flesh of Paul’s arm, even though the material of his jacket and shirt.

“Oh fuck, Paul…” John breathed with an half-amused chuckle, angling his face up to look him deep in the eye. When he opened his mouth again to say more, Paul shushed him with a tender kiss, allowing John to melt against him as he came down from his high.

“You okay?” Paul gently asked against the boy’s lips and John nodded as he tried to kiss back passionately, but not quite managing in his state of post-coital bliss. He gave a weak little nod. “You’re adorable, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off.” John retorted drowsily, but Paul could see his was smiling anyway.

“Let’s go back to the car, yeah? You can sleep in there if you want to,” Paul suggested, but John only scoffed weakly as he pushed himself off Paul, pretending he was more than fine. Without another word, he stumbled out of the stall and the disgusting bathroom. Paul quickly followed him, not wanting him to accidentally hurt himself, or worse give them away.

          “I swear I’m much more cosmically conscious after an orgasm like that,” John mumbled as they made their way back to the car, sounding almost drunk, or high. Paul chuckled at that and nudged John’s side with his elbow as he saw Julia and Jules were already waiting at that car.

“Just get in the car and don’t say too much. Sleep or something. You’re a mess,” Paul told him sternly yet lovingly as he guided him to the car by his back, smiling and waving at Julia who had now caught sight of them. She waved them over, apparently not seeing anything wrong about John, which was almost a miracle.

“And who’s fault is that, eh? And I’m not sleeping. I’m not even tired!” John exclaimed and yawned, making Paul laugh.

“Of course you’re not. Come on. Act normal, okay?” Paul whispered to him as they got closer and closer to the rest of the family and greeted them as soon as he was close enough, an example that John followed.

“Where were you guys?!” Julia asked, and John smiled at her reassuringly as he doubtfully let go of John, hoping he could find his own way back into the car. To his surprise, John managed to do so just fine. Like he had thought, though, the younger man let his head rest against the door once he had sat down and closed his eyes, gently breathing through his mouth.

“Just using the loo. It was disgusting,” Paul told her, not really lying. Julia grinned at him and leaned in for a small peck, before turning back to the car and getting inside.

“I could have told you that,” she said as she sat down and pulled the door shut behind her. Paul shrugged and took his seat behind the wheel again, where he was offered a bottle of water by Jules. He took it from her and placed it between his thighs as he started the car again, fastened his seat-belt and started to drive off again. Like he had thought, soon was soon asleep again and remained that way for a good two hours, allowing them to drive peacefully for the largest part of the way.

          After almost seven hours of driving and two more stops, none of which contained anymore sex thankfully, they finally arrived at their little cottage that would be their new home for the next couple of days. As Paul and Julia had expected it wasn’t too big, but it was enough for them. John quickly claimed the second double bedroom and sneakily gave Paul the thumbs up as he started to carry his things inside.

The cottage was near a loch and a large forest, surrounding them entirely in countryside with not another house in sight for as far as they could see. They had been able to park right beside the house and as Paul looked out over the water, he could already picture him and John riding along the edge of it on their horses. The weather had cleared up as well, and the sun was now shining, giving the surroundings a golden and reddish glow that looked so beautiful, Paul knew he wasn’t going to forget that sight for a long time.

He helped Julia and Jules carry some stuff inside and put things away, and had just been making his and Julia’s bed when he heard John give a high pitched shout from his own bedroom. Both he and Julia looked up at each other in confusement, which quickly vanished when John entered the room carrying a large grey and black spotted cat. His eyes were wide in excitement as he showed the little creature to them and when Julia told him to put some milk down for the little guy, John rudely objected that he was indeed a girl, before hurrying out of their bedroom and down the stairs to do as his mother asked anyway.

When Paul came back downstairs and found John cuddling with the cat, John felt his heart grow warm at the sight and a goofy smile appeared on his face. When John saw him watching him, he beckoned him closer and Paul did so, taking a seat next to his boyfriend and listening attentively as John began to explain why this was the best cat ever and they should just kidnap it when they’re going back home. Already, Paul was loving their holiday.

* * *

 

Paul let himself collapse face-down onto the bed with an exhausted sigh, before wiping away some sweat from his brow. He could hear John giggle in his ear as the younger man rolled over onto his stomach and curled his naked form around him, holding him close as he pressed his lips against the back of Paul’s neck, not caring that he was all sweaty and disgusting. Paul chuckled at the affection, and hummed appreciatively as John’s hands started to massage his shoulders and back, rubbing his muscles and pulling at his skin as his lips continued their tender kissing. He quickly relaxed into it, enjoying his lover’s ministrations and arching up into it with a tired groan as he smiled into his pillow.

They had made perfect use of their double bed, having tried all kinds of different positions and having rolled around in it so much that the sheets had fallen off the bed completely, leaving them naked now without any protection from the cold air. It had been perfect and felt so good not having to worry about falling off if they moved just a bit too much. It had been exhausting, though, and Paul truly needed to catch his breath before he could even lift another finger. It had been fucking worth it, though.

“Aw, is my baby tired?” John teasingly whispered into his ear with a little chuckle, before kissing him behind his ear, which he knew was a weak spot for the older man. Paul moaned at the feeling and chuckled, wishing he could say anything in return and join John’s little banter. But even forming the words was too much work.

“That’s what you get when you’re getting old, Paul. I should be thankful you can still get off in the first place.”

“Fuf off,” Paul shot back, not even bothering to lift his head out of the pillow. John chuckled in his ear again as he hooked one of his legs over Paul’s hips, pushing his still half-hard cock against Paul’s hip. “Mmm… you’re fucking kidding me,” Paul added, now finally turning his head to make the words come out properly, and groaning when his younger lover nodded. “You just came!”

“Maybe I was faking?” John offered, but Paul laughed at that.

“You just _ate_ your own cum, John! You definitely just came,” Paul said, moaning when John squeezed the flesh of his arse; it had always been a weak spot of his and the boy fucking knew it.

“Oh please, Paul? I promise I’ll make it good,” John whispered huskily in his ear, putting on his best sex-voice that normally would have Paul already half-way inside of his younger lover, but this time wasn’t even enough to cause a twitch in his flaccid cock.

“Sorry, luv. I’m too tired. I need a few minutes, alright?”

“I could ride you?” John tried, but Paul shook his head as he chuckle.

“John, however appealing that offer is, I can’t even get it up right now. You will need to wait.”

“But I don’t _want_ to wait! I thought this was going to be our little Fuck-Holiday, not a Entertain-Grandpa-With-Blue-Balls-Holiday!”

“Jeez, John. Thanks,” Paul replied with a roll of his eyes, pretending to be hurt by the comment, despite knowing John could always look right through him. “You could always jerk off? If you let me watch, I might even be able to finish the job.”

“Or,” John said as he suddenly sat up on the bed, “I could… you know… do you?” Paul frowned at that in confusement and forced himself to roll over so he could look at John. The boy was watching him nervously, sitting on his knees as he bit his lips.

“Do me?” he asked, unsure just what John meant by that.

“Yeah… you know… switch the roles? If you want that, of course. I mean… we don’t have to, if- if you don’t want that. I understand if you don’t. But-“

“You want to fuck me?” Paul asked bluntly, staring up at John with wide eyes, unsure how he felt about that idea. The only time he had let anyone fuck him had been with that one guy in the closet when he had been in his early twenties, and the memories of that weren’t that great. Yet, he felt a strange warmth pool low in his stomach and when he saw John nod, he felt all the blood rush from his head and down to his stomach.

“O-okay…” he heard himself say and he gave a curt nod, before he took a deep breath to relax. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“You don’t have to. I-I could just wank, you know. It’s fine,” John reassured him with a little smile, but Paul shook his head.

“No, I… I want you to. Just… make it good, yeah?” Paul asked and when John nodded his consent, Paul reached out for him, curling his fingers into John’s hair and gently guiding him down to press his lips against his for a tender and reassuring kiss, letting John know he wanted this. He was just nervous. But he trusted John. John would make it good.

          The room was completely dark as John helped to move Paul to the middle of the bed, where they would have the most room. Paul’s heart was thumping in his chest, feeling nervous about what was going to happen. Not that he didn’t want it to happen. He did, only… what if he didn’t like it?

“Just tell me if you want to stop,” John whispered as he leaned down to capture his mouth for another kiss, gently nipping at the older man’s lips to take his mind off what was going to happen. Paul nodded and kissed John back as he slid his hands up John’s thighs, caressing his bare skin as the younger man straddled his hips.

“Lay back and relax,” John said as he pulled back, letting his warm breath ghost over Paul’s wet lips. The older man nodded again as he let out deep breath and closed his eyes. John’s lips found his jaw, kissing the beard that was still there, and slowly moved further down, giving Paul to time to get used to the idea as he let his hands caress his chest, gently rubbing his nipples with his thumb whenever he passed one of them. Paul let him, taking deep breaths to relax like John had told him to do.

“You okay?” John asked as he bowed his head down to kiss Paul’s chest, glancing up through his lashes to look him in the eye. Paul bit his lip as he nodded, despite feeling quite far from okay, but if John could do this every single time, he could too, right?

“Paul, luv, look at me,” John said in a gentle voice, cupping Paul’s cheek in his hand and angling his face down to meet his eyes as he stroked his cheek with his thumb. Paul did as he was asked, taking deep breaths. “You’re okay, Paul. You’ll be fine. It’s only me, remember? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I-I know. It’s just…”

“I know, Paul. I _know_ ,” John told him as he placed a kiss right on Paul’s heard, and really that was all Paul needed to hear. John was right. He did know. Paul still remembered how nervous John had been their first time. How he had shaken in his arms and whimpered whenever he touched him, afraid of the unknown. He knew what it was like and he had pulled through, with his help, like John would do for him. It was okay. He was going to be fine. Paul nodded and reached for John, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him again deeply, spreading his legs so John could lay between them.

“Look at you,” John spoke as he pulled away, “a grown man afraid to have sex.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Paul retorted, rolling his eyes, but still laughing and John laughed with him, and immediately Paul felt himself relax into John’s arms. He always knew how to make him feel better.

          They took it slow, taking it ten seconds at the time and simply learning how to relax into it. John was lying on top of him, rutting up against Paul’s thigh as he kissed him passionately, suckling sweetly on the older man’s tongue as he moaned into it, enjoying the way Paul was pulling at his hair. Paul liked those moans. They steadied him, brought him back to the present and taught him to just let go and let John take control. The younger man knew what he was doing. He was going to be fine.

Wrapping one of his legs around John’s waist, he thrusted up against him, urging him on and letting him know he was doing good. John was surprisingly tender with him, taking it slow and never forcing Paul into anything and instead letting him set the pace. Paul liked that, feeling like he still had some control. He shuddered as John’s hands slid down his body to cup his arse, giving it a squeeze as a warning for what was to come. Paul felt his cheeks heat up at the thought, and at the same time felt his still flaccid cock finally give a little twitch of excitement. See? He could do this.

Then John’s hands moved further down, caressing his skin as he grabbed at his thighs, digging his nails into his skin as he pulled them further apart. Paul let him, whining into John’s mouth and hooking both his legs behind John’s back, like John often did with him. When John’s fingers brushed his inner thigh, he couldn’t help but thrust up into the feeling, liking it.

“See?” John said as he briefly pulled away to brief, moving his lips down to nip as his ear, “It’s good.” Paul nodded at that, knowing John was right, but still feeling nervous. The man pulled away and looked deep into his eyes again, letting Paul know it was only him, before kissing him again and moved his hands up to cup Paul’s cock in his hand. The younger man wrapped his fingers around him and gave him a few pulls, before he moved away from Paul and leaned over him, reaching for something.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Paul asked breathlessly and blushed when John got back to him, in his hand a bottle of lube and a cheeky smile on his face.

“Told you I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said and Paul chuckled as he nodded. To calm him down, John kissed him again, licking at his tongue with his own and feeling how Paul relaxed at that. He didn’t even tense up when he heard John open the bottle and squirt some of the stuff onto his fingers. Instead, he spread his legs further apart, giving John plenty of room to work in the hope it would make things easier. John chuckled against his lips and Paul hissed as he felt something cool poking between his arse cheeks.

“Just relax for me,” John reminded him as he cocked his head to the side to deepen the kiss, while at the same time slowly pressing his finger inside of Paul. The older man groaned at the odd feeling of having something push itself inside of his hole, and although it didn’t hurt, he had felt more pleasant things in his lifetime. He wished he knew how it had gone that first time between him and that other boy at university, but the memories were woozy, leaving him for the most part in the dark. Yet, knowing he had done this before, somehow helped. He could do this. He had, after all, done it before. Before he knew it, John’s finger was all the way inside of him.

“You’re doing good, Macca,” John said as he kissed his way down Paul’s body, moving his tongue to the man’s nipples to tease him there and make him feel more at ease. Paul watched him curiously as he worked his tongue over his nipple, making it quickly stand erect. From the corner of his eyes, he could see John’s arm move as he thrusted his finger in and out of Paul, making it all the more real.

The feeling was weird, but Paul tried his best to relax into it and before he knew it John pressed another finger against his opening. He frowned at that, trying to remember how John would react to his ministrations when he was the one getting fucked, but for some reason he found it difficult to remember. Still, he knew John liked it when he fingered the younger man. He could get off on it and beg so prettily for more and gasp out of name in pure pleasure. Yet, Paul didn’t feel anything that he could even remotely describe as pleasure yet and John was already having almost two fingers inside of him. Was there something wrong?

As if on cue, John suddenly curled his fingers inside of him, and Paul had to bite down his fist to keep himself from crying out in both pleasure and surprise. It was as if someone had turned a switch, allowing his body to finally bathe in the pleasure of John’s fingers stroking his inside, rubbing over that same spot over and over again and shooting sparks of pleasure through his body, and then it hit him. His prostrate. John was pressing down at his prostrate, like he would always do to him to get John to go absolutely crazy with want and eventually make him come.

“Shit… John…” Paul gasped, feeling how his cock slowly started to wake up. John looked up at him with a mischievous look on his face as he grinned at him.

“Good?” he asked smugly, but Paul didn’t even care. He only nodded and moaned out into his hand when John moved his fingers again, letting the tips rub over that spot inside of him as he scissored his fingers to spread further him open. Then, when he felt another finger press against him, he only pushed down against it, wanting more, and causing John to chuckle.

Too soon, however, John removed his fingers and reached for the bedside table again, this time grabbing a condom. Paul caught his breath as he watched John ripping it open and sliding the little ring of plastic over his erection and he wished he could do it for him, but he still felt too nervous to do something like that. John winked at him and gave himself a few strokes before grabbing Paul’s thighs and lifting them higher up. Paul took a deep breath and kept his eyes focused on John’s hand as the younger man took the base of his cock in his hand and moved the head between Paul’s arse cheeks, lining himself up and letting Paul get used to the idea, before pressing it, slowly and careful not to hurt the older man.

Paul wined as he felt himself stretch further than before. John felt incredibly big as he pushed his way inside of him and Paul grabbed the bed with two hands to steady himself as he tried to breathe deeply and relax. Only, that was easier said than done, especially since he was already feeling so uncomfortable. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else as he let John push in, hoping he would done sooner rather than later. He tensed up as he suddenly felt John’s fingers caressing his cheek, his eyes shooting open in surprise.

“Shh… it’s fine, Paul. I’m here. It’s only me. Just relax for me. It will feel good soon, I promise you,” John said and Paul nodded, trying to remember how good John’s fingers had felt inside of him and wondering just how could John’s cock would be. “You’re doing great, Macca. You feel good, you know?” John added, making Paul laugh at his words, and smiled as he realised how good John must be feeling right now, having been in the same position too many times not to know and having loved it every single time. The thought relaxed him, feeling glad he could make John feel good, if only how he was doing that was still a little odd to him.

“You better not start about how tight I am, John. Or I will slit your throat,” Paul huffed and John laughed at that as he smiled down at Paul with a loving gaze, looking almost _proud_ of him, which made Paul feel rather silly.

“But what if it’s true? I’m not supposed to lie am I? Because you really are _tight_. You feel so good around my cock,” John told him with a wink, this time causing Paul to laugh, which quickly changed into a heady moan as John sank the rest of the way inside of him, bottoming out inside of him with a groan.

“Just… shut up and hurry,” Paul told him and John leaned down to kiss him again as he did what Paul asked and started to shallowly thrust inside of the older man, giving Paul the time to adjust to having him inside of him, as he already started searching for that spot, wanting Paul’s proper first time to be as good as his.

“I love you,” he muttered and Paul moaned into his mouth in reply as he wrapped his arms around his neck to keep their lips locked as John’s thrust became bolder and bolder. Paul quickly relaxed into the feeling of John moving inside of him, now knowing it was going to feel good eventually if he managed to relax. It still felt weird, though. John’s cock burned against his insides as he moved in and out and Paul shuddered occasionally as his arse muscles constricted around him, pulling him deeper instead of trying to push him out. It was odd, but not unpleasant and when John started to speed up his thrusts and move in longer strokes, Paul found himself letting out a breathy moan of pleasure.

Slowly, they fell into a rhythm, John fucking himself in and out of Paul with varying angles as Paul thrusted his hips up to meet them, making John groan into his mouth in pleasure, sweat forming all over his body. Paul enjoyed the sight of him whenever he pulled back to breath, and stroked Paul’s hair with his fingers as he caressed the man’s back with his other, keeping him close to him, wanting to feel him pressed against him to steady him. Then suddenly, after a few minutes of John awkwardly changing angles, Paul felt him hitting _that_ spot inside of him and his entire body shook with pleasure as he moaned out John’s name in surprise, throwing his head back into the pillows as he begged John for more.

“Good, eh?” John asked, already sounding out of breath and Paul could only nod as he chewed his lip and started pushing back against Paul, pressing down harder and harder in search for more. John quickly caught on and grabbed on of Paul’s thighs, pushing it further up to Paul’s chest to give himself more space to thrust in at the right angle. He smiled as he heard his lover moan as he hit his prostrate again, feeling rather proud that he could make him feel this way.

“Fuck… John, please…” Paul asked, one of his hands sliding down between their bodies to touch himself and John quickly slapped it away, before taking over, hoping he would be able to get Paul off again as well, even if he had some trouble getting started, hoping that if Paul knew he could come from this, that they might do this again. He himself was already shuddering, feeling his orgasm come closer and closer, pulling at his belly and balls and making it hard for him to focus, let alone speak. He jerked Paul quickly in time with his thrusts, speeding up and thrusting in and out of Paul a little too roughly to be perfect, but he couldn’t help himself. It had been so long since he had last done anything like this and Paul just felt so damn good around his cock. He tried to hit Paul’s prostrate as often as he could, making Paul moan incessantly as he rocked on the bed at the force of it all, his mouth hanging slack and his eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure. Surely, it wouldn’t be too long before.

“Shit… John!” Paul cried out, and John quickly kissed Paul to muffle his shouts as the older man spasmed against him and shot his load between their bellies, his arse clamping down around John’s cock and thus pulling his orgasm out of him as well. He moaned into Paul’s mouth as he thrusted in one last time to the hilt, causing Paul to whine in discomfort as he came too, shuddering against him as he emptied himself in the condom, until he collapsed on top of Paul with a loud “oeff”, this time feeling completely and utterly satisfied. The only just managed to kiss and clean up before they fell asleep in each other’s arms, still curled up on one end of the bed, leaving the other half empty.

          When John woke up, he was alone in his double bed and the covers had magically moved to cover him again. He wasn’t surprised. If anything, he should be surprised Paul had allowed himself to fall asleep beside him that previous evening. Then again, they had had sex twice in a row, so it hadn’t been surprising that he hadn’t had been able to muster the strength to go back to his own bed. John was hardly certain he could even get out of bed now.

Groaning, John rolled onto his stomach and hugged his pillow close to him, smiling as he could still smell Paul on them. God, it had been great last night, to have Paul under him like that. It was so different, but so good. He hoped Paul had enjoyed it as much as he had seemed. Then maybe, they could do it again that way.

The sounds of nails scratching against the wooden floor of his room alerted John and when he felt something jump up on his bed, he looked up in confusement, smiling as he saw the grey and black spotted cat had jumped up on his bed and was now walking over to him. Quickly, he rolled over and reached out for the little girl, letting her sniff his hand before scratching her gentle behind her ear. The cat, John hadn’t figured out what her name was yet, purred at the attention and sat down on his chest, seemingly pleased with letting John worship her before breakfast.

John really wished he could have a cat. He had had a few when he had been younger, mostly because he took home whatever cat he found, but they had always left after a while or their real owners had turned up, tears in their eyes that he had managed to found their Mr Tiddles or Butterscotch or whatever their names were. It would be nice to have one for himself, though. One that wouldn’t leave and would always be by his side. Maybe he could convince Paul to buy him one.

After a while, though, John could hear his stomach growling and he was forced to push the cat from his chest so he could get up and get breakfast. No matter how much he loved cats and cuddling with them, he’d rather not do that on an empty stomach. He forced himself out of bed, pulled on some clothes – having breakfast naked probably wouldn’t be very appreciated by his mother, although he doubted Paul would mind – and combed his fingers through his hair, before picking up the cat and carrying her downstairs with him.

          The rest of the family was already in the kitchen having breakfast. It was a typical cottage kitchen, very quaint with low ceilings and surprisingly large, with a small breakfast table in the middle of it. The sun was already shining through the little windows above the kitchen counters, bathing the kitchen in a golden glow.

“Morning, John. Slept well?” his mother greeted him as he sat down at the table, taking the free seat next to Paul.

“Yeah, alright. Cat woke me up, though. Not that I mind at all,” he said as he reached for a slice of bread, lying his hand on Paul’s thigh under the table. The older man glanced at him from the corner of his eye and offered him a smile, that John answered with one of his own.

“I like her! She slept next to me all night!” Jules said as teared a piece of her bread off and offered it to the cat at her feet, who eagerly ate it.

“As long as she’s not keeping me awake, I’m okay with whatever she does,” Julia said with as she poured her son a cup of tea. They made some small talk over dinner, and John kept his hand on Paul’s thigh the entire time, glad they had ended up next to each other for once and feeling his cheeks heat up as Paul sometimes rubbed his thigh in return.

“So,” Paul said as they had finished their breakfast, drinking the last of his tea as he rubbed John’s foot with his own, “what are today’s plans then?”

“Well, I thought it might be fun to check out the stables. You did say you wanted to teach the kids how to ride,” Julia suggested and John forced himself not to think of an entire different type of riding, which was hard with Paul touching him, the memories of last night too fresh in his mind. Jules, however, was already jumping up and down in excitement.

“Oh yes! Can we, please? Mum said they also had donkeys!” she almost yelled as he looked at Paul with pleading eyes. Paul laughed at that, putting his tea down as he nodded.

“Alright. We’ll go see the horses and donkeys. Maybe if you’re quick learners we can go for a little ride along the lake, too? What do you say, John?”

“As long as you teach me how to ride those devils first, I guess I’ll be fine,” John replied, forcing himself not to grin like a fool at the thought of going out riding with Paul, hopefully alone.

“Can I stay with the donkeys then? While John and Paul are out riding? I like those better,” Jules asked, turning to her mother for this.

“Sure, luv,” she agreed and John squeezed Paul’s thigh in excitement. They were going out riding that afternoon. Alone. Around the lake and in the forest. With no one else around. This was going to be fun, and if John remembered correctly, he still had a little bottle of lube that was just small enough to fit in his pocket. He had always wanted to have sex outdoors at least once. And this was his change. The holiday turned out to be a Fuck-Holiday, after all, and John couldn’t be happier.


	28. Chapter 28

Horses, John decided, were not his thing. They were large, loud, stinky, unpredictable, and really rather rude; they were always turning their asses to him, or bumping their heads against his chest to push him away. Sitting on them was the worst. They moved oddly, always rocking him around and nearly making him fall off. Especially when they did that little jog thing, or whatever it was. At least the feelings seemed to be mutual, as they refused to let him anywhere near them. Some of them simply walked away with a little huff.

Paul, however, seemed a natural with them, speaking to them with that high gentle voice of his, sweetly petting them and rubbing their noses and feeding them little treats, and quickly becoming great pals with them. They even stood still when the older man tried brushing them, allowing Paul to simply move past and around them. Overall they just loved the attention the man was giving them. Paul was smiling broadly all the while, lips curled up to show his teeth, his kind eyes shimmering as he watched the creatures and whispered little praises to them, calling them “girl” and “luv” and “pretty” and “handsome” and even “good”, making John wonder why they weren’t that well-behaved when he was around. In the end he decided it was just because they didn’t like him. Unlike Paul. The horses seemed to adore him as much Paul adored them. 

How he did it, John didn’t know, but he did know Paul looked absolutely stunning when he was looking after the horses, guiding them around the place with only the gentlest of tugs on their halters. He seemed completely in his element, not even fazed by the smell of the place or the bigness of the horses or when they would just stop and suddenly start pooping without any warning, and remaining calm when one would not listen as perfectly as one might have hoped. They even let him ride them without a saddle. He looked gorgeous sitting there high up on his horse, allowing his body to move with the motions of the animals as they strutted around the place. So gracious, unlike his own awkward wobbling around.

The stables had been nearby – a mere fifteen minute drive – and were surrounded by beautiful countryside with plenty of routes to take while riding around the lock or through the woods. It was a beautiful spring day, with the sun out and shining, only a few light clouds hanging in the sky and temperatures just comfortable enough to walk around with a light leather jacket and jeans, although John and the others had been given proper riding gear to wear as soon as they had arrived. They were skin-tight, much tighter than anything John had ever worn before and he felt really rather exposed in them, but he had seen the way Paul had glanced appreciatively at him when he had changed, which made it all a bit more worth it. Still, that didn’t mean he liked the way the trousers hugged his ass and crotch. How they did the same for Paul, however, was a different story altogether. Because, God that man looked good in those tight dark blue trousers with those knee-high brown leather boots and that gorgeous crème sweater and brown leather coat and gloves. He hoped he only looked as good to Paul.

“John! Come say hi to Henry, would ya?” Paul called him from across the paddock. They had gone outside after John and Jules’s first basic training, which had gone dubiously in John’s mind, and they had taken two of horses out with them. One was a beautiful dark brown horse with white socks and long almost black manes, and the other a lighter one with blond manes and a lighter nose. Paul was sitting on the dark brown one, this time in the saddle, lightly holding the reins in his left hand as he waved him over, his body swaying lightly as the horse gently walked around the paddock a bit. John grimaced back at him, took a deep breath and pushed himself off the fence before reluctantly walking over to Paul and a young blond woman who was helping them. His mother gave him one last reassuring pat on the back, before she took Jules by her shoulder and started walking towards another paddock a bit further away where the donkeys stood. Jules had loved riding, but had preferred to see the donkeys now, finding those cuter than the horses. John didn’t feel bad for gladly wanting to join her instead. Paul’s horse, Daisy, turned her head to him as she heard him approach and John swallowed thickly, only moving on because he knew it would make Paul happy. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? He had managed alright inside, hadn’t he? Or at least Paul had thought so. John seriously doubted the older man’s judgement, however, because in his mind it had been a miracle he hadn’t fallen off yet.

“Nervous?” Paul asked knowingly when he was near enough, forcing Daisy to stop with a gentle pull at the reins, making it look almost too easy. John shrugged, reluctant to admit it, but Paul understood him anyway, offering him a little smile.

“You’ll be fine, John. Once you’ve got the hang of it, you’ll love it.”

“Can’t we just go pet the donkeys with Jules?”

“Not until you’ve at least given it a shot. Trust me, yeah? Once you’ve gotten the hang of it, you’ll love it. I promise. Besides, it went fine inside, didn’t it?” Paul told him and John forced himself not to scoff at that last. Fine, my arse, he thought.

“Because you were holding the reins maybe,” he muttered, but gave in anyway, following Paul back to where the young woman was waiting for him with the other horse. Carefully, John approached her like he had been shown to do when they had first gone into the stables. To his surprise the horse remained calm and didn’t try to move away when he raised his hand to stroke her nose. His surprise must have been apparent, as the young blonde immediately started talking to her, a smug little smile on his face.

“This is Abbey. She’s our sweetest mare. You’ll get along with her just fine,” she told him as John patted the animal with wide eyes, almost not believing a horse actually allowed him to touch her. The others had all almost run away at the sight of him. “I’m Sadie, by the way. Paul told me this is your first time, so I’ll be helping you through it. How did it go inside?”

“Well, I haven’t fallen off yet, which I suppose is something. Can’t say it went good, though,” John muttered in reply as he stared at the mare with some distrust. She was most likely plotting against him and would probably betray him as soon as he was on her back. There was no way she actually might sort of _like_ him. Right?

“John did fine for his first time. He just needs to get a feel for it and get some confidence. He isn’t as bad as he thinks he is,” Paul suddenly said and John felt his cheeks heat up a little at the praise and glanced at Paul from the corner of his eyes, a little smile pulling at his lips as he saw Paul wink at him.

“Alright then. Let’s see how you’ll do then. Abbey is a good girl, so don’t be afraid. We’ll first have a little walk around the paddock, let you get a feel for it and then we’re going to go a bit faster and after that I’ll help you guide her around a bit. If you’re managed well enough, I might let you two have a little walk by yourselves,” Sadie said as she beckoned John over to where she was standing beside the horse, ready to help him into the saddle. John turned to look at her in surprise.

“We can actually go for a ride, then?” he asked as he walked over to her, liking the idea of going for a ride with Paul alone a lot. Sadie nodded.

“Oh yes! We have a large part of the area blocked off for beginners to ride in, so there will always be someone near if anything might go wrong. And Paul is an experienced rider, so there is really no problem. Now, come on. Let’s get you up in the saddle, or you won’t have time to go for a ride.” John was in the saddle and walking around the paddock by himself in less than forty minutes. Paul’s proud smile would have been enough of a reward already, but when Sadie finally declared they could go out for a ride themselves, John’s day almost couldn’t get any better.

          The area they were allowed to ride in wasn’t big, but it was a large enough that they would ride around without having to worry about ending up at the edge of it or back at the stables. It consisted mostly of woods, with one large open fields in the middle and the loch at one end at the back, so they could ride along the water. To Paul it was perfect. He had missed riding, hadn’t done it since his last holiday in Dorset, almost five years ago. He had missed the sound of hooves clacking along the paths or stomping on the earth, the rocking of his body in the saddle, the feeling of the air rushing through his hair, the sun on his face, the warmth of the animal between his legs, the smell of nature in his nostrils, and the singing of birds and the rushing of the wind through the leaves in his ears. It was wonderful to be out riding again. Briefly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, smelling that unique air of nature that he had missed so much back in London and Liverpool.

Just a few meters behind him was John. Paul could see he was sometimes struggling a bit, more because of his lack of experience and the uneven ground than truly bad riding, but his horse Abbey was doing just fine, letting John fumble around a bit as she simply followed Paul’s horse Henry in the same pace. Really, Paul thought he looked adorable, with that almost constant pout on his face when he tried to do something but failed. Paul knew he could help the younger man at least a little, but then again, it was good for him to figure stuff out on his own and get a little more confidence, because John really wasn’t doing bad for his first time. And every time he did manage to get Abbey to do something he wanted, his face would light up and a proud smile would decorate his face, making him look like a handsome prince on his horse - a look Paul didn’t dislike on the younger man.

“You okay there, John?” Paul called back at his younger lover, slowing Henry down a little to allow John to catch up with him. Soon the boy appeared by his side. He took the reins in one hand and whipped some sweat off his brow as he nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m alright,” he huffed as he tried guiding Abbey a little closer to the other horse so he wasn’t that far away.

“You’re doing good, luv,” Paul told him with an amused smile and when John scoffed in disbelieve he added, “Hold the reins shorter. It’s easier that way.” Right away, John shortened the reins and when he pulled again, Abbey easily moved closer to Henry and Paul, and John’s face once again lit up.

“I’m not as good as you, though,” he said, leaning forward to pet her on the neck.

“I’ve been riding longer than you. You’re doing fine, John. You really are.”

“You should be grateful for what I’m willing to do to spend more time alone with you,” John grumbled, but Paul could see the little smile that was playing on his lips, obviously appreciating the compliments. Paul didn’t need more. “How long have you been riding, anyway?”

“Not that long. I only started when I was in my late twenties. But I had been on a horse a few times before that. I have always just loved nature, you know?”

“God knows why…” John muttered, causing Paul to chuckle.

“Ever since I remember, I’ve loved nature. I remember when I was a little lad I would often just lie around in the park, bird-watching and stuff. At one point I even wanted to have my own farm.”

“Why didn’t you get one then?” John asked, sounding honestly interested. Paul thought about that for a while, not truly knowing the answer.

“I guess it just never happened. It’s expensive and hard work too. But I guess it was mostly just another childhood dream that never came true.”

“You’ve got a lot of them then?”

“Seems to be the case. But who doesn’t?” Paul answered with a shrug and John hummed in agreement. They rode in silence for a while, Paul listening to the singing of the birds as he watched John muck around some more from the corner of his eyes, ready to give him a hand may he need one. So far, though, John seemed to manage fine on his own.

“You know,” John spoke after a little while as they got to the loch, “a farm is not such an unrealistic dream. You could still get one now.”

“John, a farm is a lot of work and I’m only getting older. I don’t think getting a farm of my own is very clever now.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind helping you out…” John suggested, but Paul shook his head.

“Nah, you’d hate it. Too many horses, too much shit, not enough fun. No, I’d  sooner see you living in a place like New York or something than a rundown farm in Scotland.”

“New York, eh?” John asked, sounding amused. Paul shrugged.

“Sure. Or wherever else you want to live. You ever thought about it?” he asked, and John thought a little while before shrugging.

“I guess I haven’t. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life. I’ve been told I’ve been bound for failure too many time to even entertain the possibility of having a future in the first place, you know. I always wanted to be like Elvis, but now…” Paul turned to look at his younger lover, studying the thoughtful look on the younger man’s eyes as he stared down at the ground, ironically finally managing to control his horse now he wasn’t thinking so hard about it.

“Come on,” Paul said as he took John’s reins and brought them both to a halt, “Let’s have a little break, shall we?” John quickly nodded and allowed Paul to hold his horse as he struggled to get off his horse, seemingly eager for one.

          “You know, Paul,” John said as he stared up at the pale blue sky above them, his hands followed behind his head, the horses tied to a tree not far away from them and lazily gracing on the patch of grass surrounding the loch. Paul turned his head to look at him, his nose almost grazing John’s cheek with how close they were lying. “New York doesn’t sound that bad. I’ve never been, of course. But it’s a great city, isn’t it? Might get involved with the art scene there. Become an artist. A writer or a poet or something. I wouldn’t need much. Just a little place for myself with a little studio to work in and a bed big enough to have good sex in.”

“Toilet might be nice,” Paul suggested half-jokingly, unsure whether this was just one of John’s musings or if he was serious. For some reason, he wasn’t sure if he wanted John to be serious, feeling his heart ache at the idea of John being so far away from him.

“Toilets are overrated. I’ll just piss out of the window or something.”

“The true bohemian lifestyle, isn’t it?”

“I’m serious, though. I mean there’s nothing here for me in England anyway. Not with-“ John suddenly broke of that sentence, making it more than clear to Paul was he was hinting at. Really, he still wished it could be different. He didn’t say anything about it, though, knowing it would be easier for the both of them if they didn’t dwell on it too much. After all, they still had a few months and they had promised each other they were going to enjoy it. If he could promise John something, it was that, so he intended to keep it. Sighing, he rolled onto his back again and allowed his head to rest against John’s shoulder as he closed his eyes and simply focused on the sound of the wind whistling through the trees and the rushing of the water of the lake.

“I’ve been thinking of doing this year over, though. Getting higher grades so I can go to art school? Although, I don’t think I can do it,” John continued with a sigh.

“Sure you can,” Paul told him immediately, “You’re clever enough, I’m sure. You just need to go for it. Do your work and everything.”

“Do you really think so?” John asked, and Paul could see him smile from the corner of his eye as he nodded.

“Of course. If you want it badly enough. You can do so much more than you think you can.”

“I’d like to go to art school…”

“Then go.”

“But what if I can’t do it?”

“Then you’ll find something else. You don’t know until you’ve tried.”

“That’s such a parent-answer,” John chuckled, but Paul didn’t laugh along.

“It’s true, though,” he said instead, looking up at the younger man and locking eyes with him. They looked into each other’s eyes for a bit, as if communicating without words, holding a whole conversation with the other with just one look, before John nodded, looking rather determined.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Paul joked, making John laugh again as he rolled his eyes at him.

“Of course you are. You know, if I do go to art school and then go to New York and become a famous artist, I will still come and visit you at your little farm in Scotland, you know.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Maybe it is.” John said and with a little sigh, Paul rolled over so he was lying half-on top of the younger man and let his head rest on his chest as he continued to study his face, looking him deep in the eye for a while, laughing when John suddenly pulled a funny face.

“I wish we could always be like this,” Paul said with a sigh, blushing as he realised what he had said, not having intended to say it in the first place. John, however, instead of making fun of him for such a silly thought, only smiled back at him, looking slightly sad.

“Me too,” he replied and Paul started chewing his bottom lip as he continued to look at John, taking in every little detail of his face as if he were a piece of art himself, rather than an artist, wanting to remember in case John really would leave for New York.

“You’re still going to marry Julia, then?” John suddenly asked and Paul winced at the question.

“John-“

“You said yourself you weren’t sure if you wanted to marry her if it meant losing me, remember?”

“John, we talked about this. We cannot be. _This_ cannot be.”

“We are now.”

“But we shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” Paul stared at John for a bit in silence, frowning at the sudden fire he found in John’s eyes. Honestly, he wished he could be with John. He wished he could make the choice. He wished he could be with him, but he couldn’t. They weren’t allowed to. Never would be.

“It’s illegal, John. You’re only eighteen. You’re twenty-five years younger than me. I was already living with my first fiancée when you were only just getting born! It’s wrong. It’s illegal.”

“Do you love me? Truly love me?”

“Of course I do-“

“Do you love Julia?”

“I… I… Yes, I do.”

“But it’s different?”

“I don’t know…”

“So it’s different?”

“John, let’s please not do this?”

“It’s different?”

“John-“

“You love me more, don’t you? You love me _truly_.”

“Please..”

“Don’t you, Paul?”

“…”

“ _Don’t_  you?”

“Yes! Okay, yes. But-“

“Then why don’t you pick me?” John asked, his voice suddenly breaking, and Paul’s heart broke at the sound of it as he stared at John, watching with pain in his heart as he saw the pleading look in the younger man’s eyes, the sadness.

“I-I can’t…”

“But you can choose Julia? You can choose second best? Because it’s illegal.”

“It’s wrong, John… It’s not right. There’s a reason-“

“Do you really think that, Paul? Is that really what you believe?”

“John…”

“Because I don’t. This, Paul, what we have, is just as good as anyone else’s. It’s just as natural and pure and I love you. Perhaps even more so then most people lover their spouses. And you love me… isn’t that enough?”

“What do you want me to do, John?”

“Choose me!”

“And then what? You might not think there’s anything wrong with what we have. I might not think so, but people do, John. We’re not the only people in the world. They will find out. They will judge us. They won’t leave us alone. We can’t be because we truly _can’t_ be. There is no way.”

“How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

“Because, I’ve been on this shit place called earth longer than you have and I do look at what happens at the world around me, John. I _know_ what happens. I’ve fucking _seen_ it. We won’t make it.”

“Some people do, you know.”

“Yes, and some people get murdered. I… I don’t want that to happen to you. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. It’s not right.”

“Isn’t it? Oh, fuck it. Let’s just go home. We can’t let Julia wait for too long, can we? She might find out and fucking murder us, right Paul?”

“John, I didn’t mean it like that,” Paul tried, but John had already pushed himself away from him and was getting back up on his feet. He didn’t even look at Paul anymore as he whipped away the dirt from his clothes and straightened out his jacket.

“Here,” he muttered as he got a little bottle from his jacket and threw it at Paul, “You can carry it back. It’s not like we’re going to use it now.” Paul frowned at caught the little bottle, groaning as he saw it was lube, realising he was gone and fucked it up.

“John-“ he tried, but when he looked up, John was already out of earshot, untying the horses from where they stood tied to the tree and looking rather pissed off. When Paul stumbled over to him, he still wouldn’t look at him and only pushed Henry’s reins in his hands, before walking off without another word and getting up on his own horse.

“John-“ Paul called, but the younger man shook his head as he started riding off. Quickly, Paul jumped up on his horse and rode after John, hurrying over to catch up with him.

“John, I’m sorry.”

“About what? I know you’re not, so let’s just leave it, Paul. It’s not fucking worth it, anyway. You’ve made up your mind. You have decided your future and I’m not in it.” Paul wished he knew what to say to that, but in truth, John was right. There was nothing left to say.

* * *

 

John and he didn’t speak much more during the rest of the day, leaving Paul miserable by the end of it. He had tried to talk to John to explain that them being together simply was not realistic. He would ruin John’s life. John was still young and had a whole future ahead of him. He could do anything still. He shouldn’t be settling down with someone twenty-five years his senior, doing grown-up stuff and suddenly waking up next to some wrinkly old dude who takes at least twenty-minutes to get out of bed in the morning because his back is so bad and his bones are too old, when he himself is not even thirty-five. He should be out, having fun, exploring the world, do all those crazy things, make mistakes and wonderful memories. Not buy a farm with him in Scotland and play boring old card games and knit all day while screaming and moaning about “those damn kids nowadays”. And then, he wasn’t even talking about the fact that they would always be looked at, doubted and considered ill or dangerous. If anyone would find out about them, they would be done for and who knew what might happen then. Honestly, two years of prison was not even what he was worried about. No, he could not bring himself to ruin John’s life like that. If only John would understand that.

After they had returned to the stables, Julia had noticed right away there had been something off between them, so Paul had made up an excuse that John and he had been having a little dispute about the upcoming wedding and that John still wasn’t that happy about him. Julia seemed to have bought it, but there had been a moment of doubt during which she had watched them closely for some time, which Paul hoped didn’t mean anything. Still, just to be sure, he was going to have to be more careful around John, and when he got to talk to John again, he would have to tell him the same thing, although he was already afraid how John would take that news. He had known John had trouble dealing with rejection, but that it was like this…

Now, he had locked himself into his and Julia’s bedroom. It was still early in the evening, but he hadn’t felt like spending more time with other people and simply wanted to be alone for a while. John’s bottle of lube, he had stuffed in his bedside table, unsure where else he could keep it now John didn’t want it anymore. This hadn’t been how he had wanted his holiday with John to go, even if it had seemed perfect at first. A little too perfect, apparently. He wished John hadn’t mentioned the wedding or their impossible future. He wished they had just pretended a little while longer that everything was fine between them and that they were both happy to enjoy their love while they could. But of course, that had been naive. This whole thing had just been waiting to come out. Sighing, he rolled over on the bed, hugging his pillow close to him as he tried to think of something that could make it all better again. He didn’t want to lose John.

“Paul? Are you alright?” Paul sighed at the sound of his fiancee’s voice calling him through the door, feeling terribly guilty towards her for having admitted to not only John but also to himself that he loved John more. Or differently, at least. With John it was a deeper kind of love. More true, in a sense. The thought made him feel sick.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he lied, hoping she would go away again and leave him alone. She didn’t deserve someone like him. She deserved much better. Someone who actually truly loved her and put her first and wasn’t sleeping around with her son out of all people. God, he was truly awful.

“You don’t sound fine. Can I come in?” Paul wanted to say “no”, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually utter to word, so he settled for an ambiguous hum instead, leaving his answer open to interpretation. Sadly, his hum was seen as an affirmative, and the old wooden door creaked open. Paul rolled over to face her, thinking that was the least he could do. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, however, as she stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind her. She was wearing a small apron around her waist, which covered her white skirt, had the sleeves of her light green blouse rolled up to over her elbows, and a beautiful silver necklace hung around her neck, very light and modest. Her hair was slightly messy with some kind of white powder in there at times, and over all she looked a little hurried and unkempt. Some of the white stuff was also on her clothes and the apron, and she had a checkered towel thrown over her shoulder. She looked beautiful and before he knew what he was doing, Paul reached out for her with his hand, beckoning her to come closer. Maybe he loved her more than he thought? He tried not to wince at how pathetically hopeful he sounded.

“I baked an apple pie. Made a bit of a mess of it, too. Maybe I shouldn’t have been listened to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins while working with flour,” she said with a little grin as she let Paul take her hand and guide her to the bed. At least that explained the white powdery stuff in her hair, Paul thought. She took a seat at the side of the bed and let Paul lean forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

“No. I’m just a little tired.” He sighed and let himself fall back with his back against the headboard, laying a hand on Julia’s thigh for touch.

“Did John wear you out?” she asked, the tone of her voice slightly tense, which made Paul frown for a split moment, before he chuckled and shook his head, deciding it was best to be light-hearted about his relationship with John in the hope not to raise suspicion. He probably only imagined it.

“I had worse than him in my classes, luv. I’ll manage,” he told her with a little reassuring sigh and Julia nodded, although she looked somewhat thoughtful. “He just needs to learn to accept it. I’m sure once we’re married it will be different. He got used to me living with you all, he will get used to us being married.”

“Well… let’s hope so,” Julia muttered as she turned away from him and got up from the bed, still looking rather thoughtful. “The pie will be done in about forty minutes or something. If you want a piece?” she offered and Paul nodded.

“I’ll come join you in the kitchen,” he promised and Julia nodded, before leaving the room without another word, leaving Paul confused behind on the bed. Sighing, he let himself fall back down on it, fully laying down as he stared up again at the wonderfully interesting spotless white ceiling. Even the beams were painted white, leaving little for Paul to fantasise about, and thus more time to think. He didn’t want to think, though, the knowledge that there was no satisfying answer being too terrible to bare.

           John woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door, followed by someone hissing his name, calling him out of his troubled slumber – something about being chased gigantic fire-breathing puppies, while one even more gigantic Elvis sang All Shook Up to him and he was certain Paul was there somewhere. It had been an odd dream. Groaning, he lifted his head out of the pillow he was hugging, and tried turning his head towards the door to see who it was, being too far into his sleep still to recognise it.

“John!” the voice hissed again as the door creaked further open, “John! Wake up.” The voice was low, really low, but smooth and singsong like. It only took him a second longer, before he realised it was Paul. Who else would it be? Especially, at this time at night. Most people were smarter than waking him up before ten at least. What time was it, anyway?

“John!”  Paul hissed again and John huffed as he rolled over, rubbing his eyes.

“Wha’d you want?” he growled back as he glanced at the clock by his nightstand. Fuck… it was barely past 2 in the goddamn morning. What was Paul thinking?

“Get up!”

“Piss off, Paul! It’s two in the goddamn morning. Come back in eight hours and I might be awake enough to listen to you.”

“Come on, John. Please? I promise it’ll be worth it.” John frowned at that and mauled it over in his head, trying to think what Paul might have in mind that could be important enough to want to get him out of bed for. He figured there couldn’t be a fire, or his mother would have been standing screaming next to his bed and just thrown him straight out of the window, and it actually sounded really quiet in the little cottage. In the end, his curiosity won out and he nodded with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. I’ll be down in a minute,” he muttered, struggling to sit up in his bed, his head still woozy with sleep.  

“Good. Wrap up warm, get your guitar and meet me outside,” Paul whispered back at him, and before John had even had the chance to say anything in return, Paul had already left and closed the door behind him, making John frown in confusement. Wait? Weren’t they supposed to be having a fight?

Not long after, John made his way down the stairs, feeling much more awake than he had expected to feel. He had pulled on a pair of grey jeans and the warmest sweater he had brought with him, and shoved his feet in his boots that had stood next to his bed from that afternoon. It wasn’t the most flattering look, but it was comfy and warm, which John guessed was more important. Besides, he was looking really rather cuddly, which he hoped Paul would like. He found him indeed outside, a little further down and far enough away from the cottage not to be too noticeable. At first glance, he doubted anyone would even see them if they were to look outside. He pulled the blanket he had thrown over his shoulder tighter around himself and walked over to where the other man was sitting further in the field, near the beginning of the woods, on a couple of blankets around a soft, crackling fire, that illuminated his face in a warm golden glow, highlighting his more feminine features. A smile crept involuntarily onto his face at the sight. He was so lucky.

“You did this?”  John asked when he was near enough, carefully laying his guitar down onto one of the many blankets that surrounded the warm fire as he smiled down at the older man, watching as the embers of the fire sparkled in his hazel eyes.

“Didn’t want us to get cold,” he explained with a shrug, and patted the ground beside him, telling him to sit down, which John did. Paul himself was wearing one of his colourful sweater vests again that somehow managed to capture all the colours in his eyes, and too had an old knitted blanket wrapped around himself, like John. He had his guitar in his lap. His hair was ruffled and he had a slight hint of a blush on his cheeks, probably from the warmth of the fire. He sat with his legs crossed, his bare feet poking out from underneath the blankets. John never quite understood why Paul liked being barefooted all the time. He suspected it was a nature thing.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked as he made himself comfortable with the few pillows that were lying around.

“Well… I was thinking – about us, you know – and I realised that all we’ve been doing lately is fighting and having sex, so I thought it was time for something different.”

“And this is your idea of different?” John asked with an amused chuckle, “It’s rather elaborate for doing something ‘different’ from having sex, though, innit?”

“I did kind of want it to be special,” Paul admitted shyly as he looked down at his guitar, strumming a few random chords that flowed beautifully together as his fingers slid along the frets. John couldn’t help but stare.

“You’re so romantic,” he said and Paul smiled as he let out a chuckle himself.

“It’s more an excuse to camp out than anything, really. It’s such a beautiful night, it’s a sin to waste it by sleeping through it,” he explained, and John couldn’t disagree with that. Although it was barely spring, it wasn’t that cold out with the fire, and he could hear the crickets chirping and the water flowing against the rocks and the leaves ruffle in the wind. Looking up, he saw that it was completely clear, the sky being decorated with millions, if not billions, of tiny little starts of varying sizes, twinkling down at him like little broken shards of glass. It truly was a gorgeous night.

_Born a poor old  country boy, Mother Nature’s son  
_ _All day long, I’m sitting singing songs for everyone_

_Sit beside a mountain stream, see her waters rise  
_ _Listen to the pretty sounds of music as she flies_

_Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo  
_ _Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo  
_ _Doo doo doo_

_Find me in a field of grass, Mother Nature’s son  
_ _Swaying daises sing a lazy song beneath the sun_

_Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo  
_ _Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo  
_ _Doo doo doo_

John leaned back with a smile on his face as he listened to Paul play and sing. He continued the song a little after that, playing almost mindlessly and simply letting the words flow out, making it seem like it was almost second nature to him. Yes, John would have loved to get that man in his band. If only…

“That was pretty,” John noted when Paul finished and the man smirked as he got a package of cigarettes from his pocket and offered John one, which he gladly accepted.

“Wrote it myself,” he said and John nodded as he got his own lighter out of his pocket and lit his ciggy, suddenly desperate for one. “Light me up, would ya?” Paul asked as he shuffled over to him and John did as he asked, flicking on his lighter as Paul leaned close to him with his pursed lips tightly around the ciggy, glancing up at his through half-lidded eyes as he allowed John to light the ciggy for him. John had a hard time trying not to blush under his intense stare. He was almost relieved when the end of the ciggy finally started burning and Paul pulled away.

“I wasn’t mad at you, you know. This afternoon. Not really, anyway. Not at you,” John found himself saying and Paul blinked up at him a few times, not saying anything and simply waiting for John to continue, as he took a drag John hated it when Paul did that, wishing he would just nod and leave it at that, or tell him it was all right. He never did. “It was all the other people, you know. _Them_. It’s not your fault they’re such fucking narrow-minded assholes. It just frustrates me,” he said as he started plucking at the grass behind him, not caring if he was going to leave bare spots. He tensed briefly when he felt Paul’s hand on his knee and he glanced up at him.

“I get it, John. Thanks… for telling me…”

“I can’t get mad at you, Paul. Not when I know you mean well.”

“If there was another way-“ Paul started, but John shook his head, silencing him.

“I know,” he simply said with a forced smile, that Paul returned. They both remained silent for a while, simply smoking, until John sighed and sat up a bit more, turning his body more to his lover as he forced those awful thought from his mind.

“What else can you play? Any other nature songs, Wordsworth?” he said and Paul laughed at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as his cheeks rounded like they always did when he laughed. He always laughed with his entire face, not caring if it made him look stupid or anything, causing him to be even more adorable.

“Wordsworth?”

“Yeah, you know… with all the nature songs,” John explained, still staring at Paul’s face as the older man continued to laugh and shake his head, tapping the ash from his ciggy above the grass.

“I’m hardly as talented as Wordsworth, luv. And besides, I’d rather be like Keats than Wordsworth, if I’m honest,” he said with a shrug, putting the ciggy back between his lips and letting it hang there as he played the same chord progression of the same song over and over again. It was rather soothing.

“Alright, you can be Keats then. Anything for my Princess,” John said, quickly interrupting himself with a loud “ouch” as Paul kicked him with his feet at the “Princess” bit, only making John chuckle even more. “And Paul? You are that talented.” He added, smirked as he caught Paul blushing.

“Shut up,” he retorted and put his cigarette between the pegs of his guitar, before changing the positions of his fingers. John felt actual goosebumps on his arms when the older man started singing again.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
_ _Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
_ _All your life  
_ _You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
_ _Take these sunken eyes and learn to see  
_ _All your life  
_ _You were only waiting for this moment to be free_

_Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly  
_ _Into the light of the dark black night_

“Now, that’s more like Keats,” John muttered when Paul finished the song, causing him to smile down at his fingers.

“It’s not finished yet,” he said, but John shrugged, not caring. If he was honest, it was one of the most beautiful little songs he had ever heard, but he felt embarrassed telling Paul that, the words not wanting to leave his lips. For what he was so afraid, he didn’t quite know.

“What about you, then? Written anything good?” Paul asked as he started to randomly play tunes again, occasionally doing the little bit of that blackbird song. Yes, of all the songs he heard Paul play of yet, he liked that one the most. And the All My Loving one, for very different reasons. He looked down at Paul’s question, unsure how to answer it.

“I didn’t write much. I er… I kinda struggle with it,” he confessed and to his relief, Paul simple nodded at that.

“But you write poems all the time, right? It’s not that different.”

“I-I wrote _something_ … But… it’s not good or finished.”

“Did you? Let’s hear it then! Maybe I can help you out?” Paul said pick up his half-burned ciggy again as he put his guitar aside and shuffled even closer to the younger man, pulling his blanket a little more around himself, as he ran a hand through his hair. John blinked up at him a few times in surprise, before he slowly nodded, put his ciggy out and got his guitar with trembling hands. Shit.

“Like I said, it’s not any good,” John tried again as he put the guitar in his lap, staring down at it nervously as he chewed his lip in worry. Paul, however, to John’s horror, only shrugged.

“That’s fine. It doesn’t have to be. I’m only curious,” he said, taking another drag, and John nodded, knowing he didn’t have much of a choice.

           Paul could see the younger man was nervous; his fingers were shaking and he kept refusing to look at him, though whether that last was a conscious choice or not he wasn’t quite sure. Still, he was curious to know what John was so nervous for. He had no reason to be insecure. He was a good player now he knew the right chords and Paul had already heard one of his songs, which John knew he had liked. But then again, John was overall much more insecure than he had reason to be. He was handsome, smart, witty, musical and artistic, a bit of a goofball, daring, tough and sarcastic and even tender at times when he wanted to be. To Paul, he couldn’t be more perfect.

He stayed quiet as John searched for the right chords, trying his hardest to remember what he had so far, and he looked up at the stars instead as he took in the lovely scent of nature: wood, rain, grass and burning fire. He was glad he had decided to do this.

When John cleared his throat and gave Paul a little nod to say he was ready, he sat back up again and turned all his attention to the younger man with a soothing smile on his lips, hoping it would put John at ease. The younger man forced himself to smile back, before he started. His hair shimmered almost red in the light of the fire.

_If I fell in love with you  
_ _Would you promise to be true  
_ _And help me understand  
_ _Cause I’ve been in love before  
_ _And I’ve found that love is more  
_ _Than just holding hands._

_If I give my heart to you  
_ _I must be sure  
_ _From the very start  
_ _That you would love me more than her_

_So I hope you see that I  
_ _Would love to love you  
_ _And that she will cry  
_ _When she learns we are too  
_ _If I fell in love with you_

The last chord continued to sound for a few seconds longer after John had strum it, leaving an incredible tension in the air as the sounds slowly ebbed away and the two of them only stared into each other’s eyes in silence, both afraid to make a sound and ruin something – whatever that _something_ was. Paul didn’t even know what to say. Or what to do or how to act. John’s song had been so… emotional, personal, heart-felt, vulnerable - genuine. He knew it was about their relationship. He wasn’t stupid after all. But that John could write something so beautiful about it, about _him_ … He didn’t know how to deal with that. Neither, though, seemed John. He was only staring at him, mouth opening and closing slightly like that of a fish, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. His fingers were still trembling where he was tightly gripping the neck of the guitar and Paul feared he was going to break it if he didn’t relax soon.

“I-I…” Paul started, but more words failed to leave his mouth, dying on his tongue.

“I- I shouldn’t have sang that… I don’t-“

“No! I love it! It’s… beautiful. It’s just…”

“Yeah…” They fell silent again, John’s eyes dropping from Paul’s with a faint blush on his cheeks and he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “It’s hard for me, you know? Writing something like this? Or any love song, really… It’s not easy for me,” John continued after a while, and Paul couldn’t be more happy about the proposed change of subject. At least this was something he could work with.

“You don’t have to write love songs, you know?” he suggested, and John looked up at him with a doubtful look on his face.

“Well, sure, but… that’s what works right? I mean… most songs that are hits are love songs, one way or another. They work. You write them all the time, don’t you?”

“Perhaps, but it’s what I’m good at. I like filling the world with silly love songs. There’s nothing wrong with that, but that doesn’t mean you can’t write about anything else. You can write about walruses or serial killers called Maxwell, for all I care! People do write other songs as well.”

“Walruses? Seriously?” John asked, already laughing again, finally breaking the awkward tension his song had created between them. Paul shrugged.

“I’m only saying things. Just write a poem like you normally would and try putting it to music. It’ll be interesting, I’m sure,” he said and John nodded as he thought about it.

“Alright,” he finally said, “I’ll give it a shot. Your turn again. What was one of the first songs you wrote?”  Paul laughed at that, but grabbed his guitar again nonetheless, having hoped he could play a song again in the hope to let the awkward moment pass, but still it started to feel like they were giving a concert to each other with them both playing so much of their own stuff.

“Is that what we’re going to do now?” he asked, “play each other songs all night?”

“Just one more, Macca?” John all but pleaded and Paul gave into him anyway and started playing one of the first songs he had ever written called “When I’m Sixty-four”, while trying not to think how appropriate that song was at that moment. Then he played Heartbreak Hotel just for the sake of it, having a little place in his heart for that songs. It was the first true Rock n Roll song he had ever heard.

When he finished, they played a few songs together as they talked about nothing in particular and mostly spend time talking about music and their favourite artists. Paul loved simply talking with John as they played, hearing him speak and what he thought about things. What he said was always a surprise. Sometimes he was witty, other times serious or thoughtful, and sometimes he would actually say something… _deep_ – things even Paul could not fully grasp what he meant exactly. He love it all. It felt good to finally do something else than fight and have sex and to _bond_ again. Just like before.

“You know,” John said after a while as he tried to mimic a new chord that Paul had shown him for a new rock song he was teaching him, “I’d still come and live with you on your farm in Scotland if you’d let me. I mean, I can write anywhere, you know. Doesn’t have to be New York. Scotland’s nice too.” Paul only smiled in reply, secretly already imagining how living with John on their own private little farm would be like. He decided, he wouldn’t mind it.

           The crescent moon slowly travelled across the sky as they played throughout the night and laughed together, their previous quarrel quite forgotten. John’s fingertips were starting to hurt from playing so much, but he didn’t feel like saying anything, not wanting this almost magical night to end. The fire had reduced itself to a smoulder, as they had been too caught up in each other and their music to notice it going down, and neither felt like lighting it again, knowing that they soon would have to clean up and sneak back into the little cottage, before anyone would notice they were gone, both knowing there was no way they could explain this. Especially not after that afternoon. Still, neither of them wanted to be the one to ruin it, and John wished he had the power to stop time. Even just for one night. It would be all he’d need, anyway.

They were simply having a little jam session, playing together and bouncing off one another for ideas and tricks. John figured they were a great team together, like two parts of a whole coming together through the forces of musical harmony. Their voices seemed to melt together as they sang harmonies, so well did they fit together, with John singing the lower part and Paul joining in with the high notes and the occasional scream. It was simply perfect and so surprisingly easy. But soon, the first light appeared in the sky, making it impossible to ignore the fact of how long they had exactly spend outdoors together in private.

“I wonder what time it is,” Paul mused as he glanced up at the sky, watching as the first stars started to disappear at the light blue glow that slowly crept over the deep blue sky. John followed his gaze and shrugged. He didn’t even know what time the sun normally came up, having always woken up when it had long been light.

“We should head back,” the older man finally said with a sigh and John groaned.

“I don’t want to go back,” he objected and Paul smiled at him as he looked down at the guitar that was still in his lap and tenderly caressed it as if it was a living thing, and John knew that to them, their guitars were.

“I er… I _am_ sorry about continuously ruining our er… fuck-holiday, as you so aptly called it,” Paul said with a faint blush on his cheeks at the word “fuck-holiday” and John tried hard not to make fun of him for it, knowing Paul was the most “un-innocent” person in the whole of Liverpool. He did not have the privilege to blush at terms like those. He probably had had enough of them himself. Still, he kept himself from laughing and only shook his head.

“It’s fine. I’m already glad we’re not fighting anymore. And sex is overrated anyway,” John said, and Paul scoffed at the last.

“Fucking doubt that, luv,” he said with a wink and John snickered at that.

“Course not. It was only trying to make you feel better,” he replied, pretending to be hurt by that in a rather over-dramatic and rather unconvincing way, and only causing Paul to laugh even harder at him.

“Well,” he said, trying to make himself stop laughing, but failing rather badly, “I promise you I’ll fuck you against a tree before we leave if you still want that fuck-holiday in the great outdoors.”

“Romantic,” John replied with a roll of his eyes, but Paul only winked at him as he licked across his bottom lip, and John faked a laugh, trying to take away Paul’s attention from the fact that he was already getting aroused just at the thought of Paul fucking him outside against a tree. Oh, yes please.

“I’ll bring a fucking candle if you want me to be romantic, John,” Paul retorted with a roll of his eyes, before digging into his pocket again to get out another ciggy, needing one now it was starting to become morning. John didn’t even reply to that anymore, and instead went over that song Paul had been teaching him before, only briefly stopping before that new chords, so he could remember the placements of his fingers and put them down on the strings correctly. He always struggled with new chords. When he finished, Paul clapped, before handing him a new ciggy too. To John’s delight it was already burning brightly for him.

“Let’s clean up and get inside, shall we? I’d like some sleep before I have to wake up again at a time that won’t give away that I haven’t slept a wink all night. Come help me,” the older man said, putting his guitar aside and getting back onto his feet, wobbling as he finally started to use his legs again after probably more than two hours. Thankfully, John followed his example without any more complaining.

“I enjoyed that,” he said as he helped Paul folding up a few blankets and Paul smiled at him rather proudly. “We should try doing that again. Playing and talking aloud without worries. Just the two of us.”

“We could try,” Paul said, and although John already knew there was no way they could manage to pull this off again, he simply nodded, silently and foolishly hoping they in fact could, despite better knowledge. Still, he could fantasise, couldn’t he?

           “John. I er… I have to tell you something,” Paul quietly started as the two man carried all their stuff back inside, walking side by side, panting as the dragged it all with them in one go. John glanced at him briefly, before nodding.

“It’s Julia.”

“What about her?”

“I’m not sure…”

“She doesn’t know does she?” John huffed, turning to look at Paul with wide eyes as he hitched pile of blankets a little higher up his chest. They were surprisingly heavy if you carried them all in one go. When Paul shook his head, he sighed in relief.

“No, at least I don’t think so, it’s just.. She’s getting er… curious. About me, about us. She wasn’t very quick to believe me when I lied this afternoon to explain our little er… arguments. She continued to study us. Both of us.”

“You sure?”

“No… but I’d rather be safe than sorry. She also asked if you were the one to wear me out in this really funny voice. I’m not sure what to think of it. I mean, I wouldn’t know what she’d have to suspect there’s anything between us.”

John hummed in reply and for a couple of second it was quite, save their huffing and puffing as they slowly came closer and closer to the cottage. It was still completely dark inside, thankfully.

“I… I noticed something, too, “John said as he stared up at his mother’s bedroom window with a thoughtful frown. He glanced sideways to see he had Paul’s full attention.

“What is it?” he asked. John shrugged with a sigh.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just… a few weeks ago, I saw my Mum was in my room when I came home early once. She seemed nervous when I asked her what she was doing there, but when I checked everything was still in place. Not even your old pictures had been moved, but… I don’t know… it just didn’t seem quite right.”

“D’you think she saw anything? Did she say something?”

“No… but… I could sense there was something off. Maybe she didn’t see anything but expects something?” John suggested and Paul sighed nervously.

“I fucking hope not…” he muttered, “But let’s lay low. Or try to. We have to be more careful. We can’t have anyone finding out, certainly not Julia, okay?” John nodded and wished he had his hands free to do a little fake salute, only his hands were full. He had to save it for another time.

“You’re still fucking me against that tree, though,” John remarked and Paul laughed at that, but nodded anyway, before placing a little affectionate peck on John’s cheek, as he whispered to him his promise that he would.


	29. Chapter 29

The holiday was quickly coming to an end and Paul was sad to see it go. Despite the tiny little fight he had had with John on their second day, it had been a wonderful couple of days and he wished they could stay longer, wanting to stay in the beautiful countryside of Scotland with his handsome young boyfriend by his side just a little longer if he could. He didn’t even care that the surprisingly good weather they had had in the beginning had been traded in for a dreary rain after that night he and John had spent in the garden playing songs. He liked the feeling of rain soaking through his shirt and running down his back. It made him feel alive and a part of nature – a part of something larger. The thought had always had a soothing effect on him.  

Staying for any longer, however, wasn’t possible. The schools would start again on Monday and Paul still had some lessons to prepare as well. Julia would have to work again too, that weekend. It was a shame, though, but they didn’t have a choice. They would be leaving at around four in the afternoon and stop somewhere for dinner, hoping they could be home before midnight, which meant that today was packing day. Jules had insisted on seeing the donkeys again for the last time, so Paul had ushered John to take her in the early morning while he and Julia packed. John hadn’t felt much for it, but he had been easily persuadable. Which was how Paul found himself on his knees behind one of the abandoned sheds a few minutes’ walk away from their cottage, being glad his knees were resting on grass and not gravel or something like it.

“Fuck, Macca…” John moaned softly through clenched teeth, his fingers raking languidly through Paul’s hair, pushing it back and lightly pulling on it with encouraging tugs. Paul looked up at him through his lashes as he opened wide and took as much of the younger man’s cock down his throat as he could manage without gagging, taking pleasure in seeing the blissful look on his lover’s face, feeling rather smug for being able to give John so much pleasure. That alone was already enough to make his own cock stand hard and proud in his slacks, eagerly pushing to get out. So, yeah, he wasn’t _technically_ fucking John against a tree, but there were trees _around_ them, so… really, who cared? The candles he had joking brought along with him for the “romantic” effect, lay forgotten on the ground beside him. John hadn’t appreciated the joke very much, although Paul supposed he was just needy. He liked it when John was needy.

“Fuck, that’s good, Paul. Shit… how are you so good at this?” John moaned, throwing his head back against the shed with a thud as he gently thrusted up into Paul’s mouth, careful not to hurt him. Paul closed his eyes to concentrate, as John was rather distracting like this, and started speeding up, meeting John’s thrusts as he bobbed up and down, while licking at the head whenever he could. John’s body shuddered against him at the pleasure, and John lifted one hand up so he could bite down his fist to muffle the sounds he was making. Paul wished he didn’t, but he knew they had to be careful being out in the open like this.

“Macca… please?” John finally whined after another couple of minutes and Paul slowly opened his eyes again, meeting John’s desperate ones. He already looked far done and, remembering his promise, Paul slowly pulled off with a wet plop, after which he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got onto his feet. He wasn’t even fully standing up yet, or John launched himself at him, pulling eagerly at his clothes, causing Paul to stumble forward and fall against him, pushing John completely against the shed and trapping him. John only moaned in reply, his fingers tangling themselves into Paul’s hair and pulling him closer, as he suckled on his tongue. Paul let out a moan himself when one of John’s skilled hands moved down to grab his dick and pulled _hard_.

“Come one, Macca. Give it to me. Fucking want it. Need it,” he breathed, breaking the kiss to give Paul that one look that told him everything he needed to know.

“I can see that.” Paul chuckled, couldn’t help it, and John huffed in annoyance before turning around so his back was facing Paul. Involuntarily, Paul’s gaze was guided down John’s back, to the curve of his naked arse and Paul felt the need to touch and bite that pale skin and leave his marks on him.

“Do it, Paul. Make it hurt. I want to feel it while we’re driving back home. Our dirty little secret. You’ll see me squirm and hiss and you’ll _know_. I’ll know too. How well you fucked me. Come on,” John hissed and Paul’s throat went dry at those filthy words that flowed from his lover’s lips. He was almost embarrassed by how his cock throbbed as he imagined just what John had described so vividly, and found himself dropping to his knees, his hands coming up to eagerly pull at the boy’s flesh, squeezing and giving it a light slap that made John groan and push his arse out to him even more.

“What has gotten into you?” Paul asked almost stunned as he listened to John moan as he slapped his butt again, not believing how downright _slutty_ his lover was acting.

“Nothing. That’s the problem, you know. Come on, don’t pretend you don’t like it,” John growled back and Paul took a deep breath as he gave John’s ass another firm squeeze.

“Oh believe me, I do.”

“Then hurry up.” John didn’t need to say that again, as Paul immediately leaned in and gave John’s butt a cute little nip with his teeth, leaving behind a small red mark just where the curve started, before he got back onto his feet and started to undo his trousers. John eagerly pressed his backside to his crotch, urging Paul on as the older man watched him move with wide eyes, his brain briefly short-cutting until he felt his own fingers wrap themselves around his shaft in his underwear. He hissed at the long awaited touch and cursed as he pulled his cock out. Then, however, he halted, unsure how to continue.

“Come _on_ ,” John wined again and Paul slapped his butt again for good measure, causing the younger man to chuckle.

“You er… got something for me?”

“Like wha- Oh! Yes, right. My trousers. Left pocket.”

Paul bent down and started searching John’s jeans for lube and found another small container, making him chuckle and wonder how many of those John had. The one John had given him was still safely stored away in his bedside table, or at least he thought. Come to think of it, he mustn’t forget that one. Quickly, he coated two of his fingers with the stuff, put the container carefully down in the grass and pulled John’s arse cheeks apart to allow himself some more space. John almost _purred_ when he entered him with two fingers at once, feeling too impatient to start off slow with a single one. Clearly, John didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh yess… that’s it,” he moaned and Paul leaned forward to suck and bite John’s shoulder as he fucked his fingers in and out of John, opening him up with skilled movements. John eagerly squirmed on his fingers, trying to get them go deeper, and arched his back as he moaned out Paul’s name in his pleasure.

“So needy…” Paul marvelled against John’s heated skin, sucking an angry red mark on John’s shoulder. The boy huffed at that, sounding almost annoyed.

“Great observation, Paul. As if _I_ didn’t know. I’ve only been waiting for this since the moment you told me out our great holiday in the outdoors. Now fucking do something about it. Oh shit…” John retorted, his sentence breaking off in a heady moan as Paul pressed down onto his prostrate with a roll of his eyes.

“You were saying?”

“Piss off,” John grumbled back, only to gasp when Paul curled his fingers up inside him again, his eyelids fluttering close with pleasure. Paul growled at the sight and started scissoring his fingers inside him, wanting to get on with it. John didn’t say anything more after that and only gasped and moaned every time Paul stroked that spot inside of him, spreading his legs wider and pushing back to urge him on.

Finally, Paul pulled his fingers out, grabbed the lube again and spread some around his cock, before taking John’s hip in his hand and gently pushing at his lower back, wordlessly asking him to bend over more. John went easily enough, letting his cheek rest against the wooden shed as he breathed Paul’s name weakly. He sighed when he felt the head of Paul’s cock against his opening, pushing hard enough to widen his rim, but not hard enough to actually enter him.

“Fucking hell, Paul! It’s like you’re doing it on purpose! Fuck ME!” John shouted that last as Paul suddenly slammed in, entering John with one painful thrust that almost made John loose his balance. Quickly, Paul grabbed John’s hips with both hands to keep him up on his feet, his nails digging into his skin, and immediately he started moving, not giving John any time to adjust to the girth that was forcing his inner walls apart. John whined at the discomfort, but didn’t try to stop him, so Paul continued his thrusts, his mind going fuzzy as he simply slammed in over and over again, feeling how John’s arse muscles pulled him in as eagerly and needy as the man himself.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he moaned and John snickered at that, causing Paul to raise an eyebrow, but he wasn’t confused enough to stop his thrusts.

“Told you. Now if you had fucking listened to me and started fucking me sooner…” John muttered between heavy breaths and Paul slapped his arse again, causing John to jump in surprise, his arse twitching around Paul’s cock so deliciously.

“Don’t be rude to the one who is responsible for your orgasm, John,” he warned and John snorted at that, but kept his mouth shut. Leaning forward over John’s body, Paul placed a little loving kiss on the back of John’s neck to say he didn’t really meant it, and sweetly caressed the younger man’s body as he continued his thrusting, wanting to feel every bit of John, and slid his hand beneath the man’s shirt to lightly play with his nipples. John moaned weakly at that and Paul could see him smile. He kept the same pace for some minutes longer until he felt his balls beginning to tighten, indicating his orgasm was quickly approaching. He sped up his pace a bit more, and tangled a hand into John’s greasy mop of hair as he pulled back so he had a better angle. John couldn’t be that far off as well, with his soundless huffs and groans. To help him, Paul brought his other hand around John’s waist to stroke his cock in time with his thrusts. Sure enough, John quickly started fucking his hand as he pushed back against him, chasing his orgasm. The sight was absolutely captivating and Paul could have watched him for hours if he hadn’t been so close to coming.

“You close?” Paul asked, sounding as breathless as he was feeling, and John nodded rapidly, biting down his lip as he screwed his eyes shut, enjoying every bit of that blissful pleasure that was running through his body. Paul nodded, despite the fact that John wouldn’t be able to see it and slightly adjusted his angle so he was hitting John’s prostrate more directly, sending the younger man into a frenzy.

“P-Paul… Please…” John finally managed to mutter as Paul tightened his hold on his cock as he jerked him off quickly, hoping to hold of his own orgasm for long enough for John to come first, not wanting to leave him hanging. Thankfully, John didn’t take long. Suddenly, his body gave a violent jerk, his head falling back in his neck as he came, breathlessly moaning Paul’s name – or Paul guessed it was his name - and he emptied himself all over Paul’s hand and onto the grass. Paul sighed in relief, feeling how his orgasm was just within reach. He fucked John through his orgasm as he started chasing his own again, knowing that if he didn’t come soon, John would get uncomfortable. He didn’t want to truly hurt him, after all.

As soon as John’s orgasm had subsided, however, John pulled away from him, causing Paul’s cock to slide out of his arse and Paul’s orgasm to be cut off abruptly. The man growled in frustration, his eyes shooting open, before they fell close again as John knelt down in front of him and took him into his mouth, licking eagerly with sloppy sucks. Paul’s hands shot to John’s head, gripping hard at his locks as he started to thrust in and out, unable to hold back with his orgasm _that_ close. John let him, holding still and looking up at Paul with wide eyes as he allowed the older man to set the pace, and just that sight alone, John dizzy from his orgasm, his jaw slack and his lips wrapped around Paul’s cock as he allowed Paul to fuck his mouth, was enough to trigger Paul’s orgasm. He bit down his fist to muffle his cries as he thrusted in hard one last time, causing John to gag on his cock as he shot load after load into John’s mouth and down his throat.

“Oh fuck!” Paul growled when John simply swallowed around him, drinking it all down, until Paul was completely spent. He pulled off and licked around the head to clean him, before collapsing onto the ground, his back resting against the shed. Paul quickly followed, dropping to his knees as he caught his breath, and leaned forward to let himself rest against the younger man. He sighed as John started running his hand through his hair, lovingly caressing him as he pressed his nose into his hair and kissed him on the top of his head.

“That was…” Paul started, closing his eyes as he leaned into John’s touch, unsure how to describe what had happened just now.

“Mind-blowingly good?” John finished for him, and Paul chuckled.

“I wanted to go for ‘intense’, but I suppose ‘mind-blowingly good’ covers it pretty well too,” he said, glancing up at John, who chuckled along with him. As their laughter died down, they continued to stare into each other’s eyes, as if they were searching for something, but didn’t know what. They sat there for a while, both still half-naked and dishevelled in the chilly outside air, and neither caring.

“Thank you,” John spoke, his voice almost a whisper, breaking the silence. Paul blinked up a few times, not fully understanding what he meant.

“For what? The mind-blowingly good sex?” he joked, but John didn’t laugh along and only shook his head.

“Just everything, I guess. Being here with me. Loving me.”

“I do love you.”

“I know.” John looked down at the grass, the corners of his mouth twitching and Paul could see he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how or if he could. Paul didn’t press him about it, feeling that this was different for some reason. Like he didn’t need to press John. That pressing him would only make him shut him out. So he kept quiet, watching John thoughtfully as the eighteen-year-old played with the grass.

“You know,” John finally spoke after a moment of comfortable silence, “sometimes I wonder what would have happened between us if you had been younger. Or if I had been older.” Paul remained silent at that, being at a loss of what to say to that. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it, too. It was just… he didn’t quite know himself.

“Do you think we would have met? Somehow?” John asked, finally looking up to meet Paul’s eyes again. He looked doubtful. Slightly… _scared_?

“I-I… Yes. Yes, I do,” Paul said, somehow feeling confident. He didn’t really believe in fate or that things were planned out to happen a certain way or that there was this strange force in nature that meant two people were just meant to be and would always find each other no matter what. But somehow, he _knew_ they would have met. Somehow.

“I think so, too,” John admitted, “isn’t that weird?”

“I don’t know… maybe. A little bit.” Paul had expected John to say something more, but instead the younger man simply gave him a peck on the lips, before pulling away to get up from the ground. Paul watched him lazily as the boy began to get dressed again. When he saw Paul was still lying on the ground, he smiled and offered him a hand to help him up. Paul took it reluctantly, not wanting to go back yet. But John was right. They had to go back.

           The entire living room was filled with bags. Some bigger than others, some looking only half full. Jules was sitting on the couch, playing with the still nameless cat. Paul felt John squeeze his hand before letting go to join his sister on the couch. Paul, however, went upstairs to his bedroom to pack the last of his things. He hoped Julia was somewhere else, wanting to be alone for a little while before he would be forced to spend about six or seven hours in a car with three other people. He needed to mentally prepare, remembering the ride from Liverpool to Scotland all too well.

When he got to the bedroom, however, Julia was in there as well, packing the last of her things. She had put her hair up and a few strands were hanging down over her eyes as she bent over her suitcase, pressing down hard to fit in another pair of trousers with the rest of her stuff. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps.

“Hey, there you are.” She smiled at him as she straightened up and pushed her hair out of her face. Paul offered her a smile, trying not to look disappointed to see her. God, what was wrong with him? Shouldn’t he be filled with happiness whenever he looked at her? She _was_ his fiancée, after all.

“Hi. You alright?” he asked, kissing her cheek, before grabbing his own bag to pack. He could feel Julia’s eyes on him as he moved around the room, watching his every more. It made Paul nervous.

“Yeah, fine. Just packing, you know. Is Jules’s stuff downstairs like I asked?”

“Of course. She’s just playing with the cat. Found John too. He was messing around near the sheds. You know, those a little away from here,” Paul said as he got his clothes from the closet and refolded everything before putting it in his suitcase, as he had just kind of mindlessly stuffed it in there that first evening, not having felt like doing it properly. Julia watched him as he worked, sitting down on the bed to check her suitcase to see if she really had everything.

“Oh, what was he doing there?” she asked, sounding a little too casual for Paul’s liking, but he shrugged, anyway, pretending like he hadn’t heard it.  

“Seemed like he was writing. Probably he just wanted to get away from me.”

“Right…” Paul sighed as he folded his last shirt and put it away. He stared down at his suitcase, knowing that was the last he had needed to pack, except… he glanced up at the bedside table on his side, knowing what laid inside there: a book or two and that bottle of lube. He could just leave it? Maybe? But he didn’t want to leave it. For some stupid ridiculous reason he felt like he needed to take it back with him. After all, the bottle had still been quite full, having only been used two or three times. It would be a shame to leave it here, and well… John had given it to him after their fight. For some reason that mattered to him. God, he was being ridiculous, wasn’t he?

“You looking for something?” Julia asked from the bed.

“Hmm?” Paul asked, still staring at the bedside table, before realising he wasn’t alone and that staring at furniture for an overly long period of time wasn’t normal. He quickly turned to Julia with a fake smile, pretending he didn’t know she meant.

“I got your books already if you were thinking of those,” she said and Paul’s smile quickly faded from his face. The only books he had brought had been in his bedside table which meant…

“Oh, that’s good, then. I was just trying to remember if I had packed them already,” he said casually, hoping the bottle had been too deep into the drawer for her to notice it.  

“I found something else too,” Julia said and Paul wished he could just disappear. Or erase a part of her memory at least. That would work too. Either was good. Any time now. Please?

“Did you?” he asked when nothing happened.

“Yeah. I  er… I think it was lube, or something? I saw it when I got your books.”

“Really? I hadn’t seen anything.”

“It’s not yours then?”

“No, must have been from the previous people. I mean… we don’t use it.”

“Yeah, I figured the same thing, so I threw it out.”

“You threw it out?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not anything you’d be coming back for, right?”

“I suppose not.”

“It’s kind of disgusting leaving it there, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Good. I’m going to start bringing our things to the car, alright?”

“Of course. I’m all packed too, so you can bring mine too, if you want to,” Paul said pretending everything was completely normal as Julia got up and started picking up their bags. He quickly closed his own suitcase as well, so she could take that one too.

“Could you make us all some tea, then? I think we’d all like a cup before we’re off. I think we still have some biscuits somewhere,” she said as Paul got his case and offered it to her with a nod. She took it with a thankful smile.

“Thanks, luv,” she said, leaning in to peck him on the lips. Paul didn’t stop her.

“No problem. Oh, and I’ll go see if John’s finished packing, too,” he told her as he pulled away and Julia grimaced at that.

“You don’t have to. I could do that too. If you’d rather not-“

“No! I’ll do it. You’ve been busy all day. It’s no trouble,” he told her quickly and Julia nodded, before turning around and walking out with their stuff. Paul immediately let himself fall onto the bed, rubbing his face with a loud groan.

          Paul knocked three times on John’s door in a quick session, before entering, like he had grown the habit of doing, even though they were now together and he had seen everything of John already, so walking in on him masturbating wasn’t such a problem anymore. He still liked to give the boy some privacy, though, especially with his fantasies. Besides, by now Paul had knocked on his door so many times, John could hear it when it was him who was knocking and not his mother or sister or whoever else, which was nice for the both of them. John answered with a dull hum, long after Paul had closed the door behind him, acknowledging his presence without turning around where he was sitting curled up on his bed, reading a book and looking in deep thought, a slight cease decorating his brow.

Without saying another word, Paul stumbled over to him and slid onto the bed beside him, wrapping an arm around John and sighing as the younger man curled up around him, burying himself into his chest. Paul nuzzled his nose into John’s hair, taking in the scent of him. A light smile tugged on the corners of his lover’s lips, but he kept looking at his book, reading on practically undisturbed and looking more than content with his new reading position.

“Did you finish packing?” Paul muttered into his hair and John nodded as he continued reading, waving vaguely into the direction of the two bags of stuff that stood on the other end of the room near the closet, all packed and ready to go.

“Aren’t you a good boy,” Paul mused with a chuckle, knowing John would have slapped him for that if he hadn’t been so engulfed in his book. Now, all he could was a “piss off” as he snuggled up to Paul even more, making Paul doubt he truly meant it. Paul decided this was a good a moment as any to drop the bomb.

“Julia found our lube.”

It took John a while to react at the news. At first he froze completely, staring now straight through his book, before he raised his head to look up at Paul with a frown on his face.  

“What lube?” he asked rather adorably and Paul couldn’t help but smile.

“That small bottle you gave me after you- when we had gone out riding. Remember?”

“Well? Where did you keep it?” John asked as he put his book down.

“In my bedside table…” he confessed, already wincing at his own stupid decision to keep something like that in there with other stuff where Julia could easily find it. John groaned in frustration as he rolled his eyes at him. Paul couldn’t blame him.

“Fucking idiot!” John exclaimed, and sat back against Paul with a sigh. “What did she say?”

“She threw it out. Thought it was left behind by the people who stayed here before us. Or that’s what she said, anyway.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“Well, she did ask me if it was mine, even if we never use- never mind.”

“Too much information, McCartney. Anyway, do you think she-“

“Honestly,” Paul said with a sigh, “I don’t even know anymore. She could have taken live-action photos of us already for all I know and is just waiting for the big dramatic reveal. I don’t even know what she does and doesn’t know anymore.”

“I doubt it’s as bad as that, Paul,” John said with a chuckle. “If she knew or suspected anything, I think we’d know long before she’d start to take fucking photographs.”

“You never know. They might sell well?” Paul suggested, poking John playfully in his side, and John jumped up at that, turning his body so he could look at Paul directly.

“And to who is she selling them, eh? It’s not like we’re famous musicians or something that would make those photographs that scandalous,” he said and Paul figured he had a point, but he didn’t care because he had John in his lap, looking at him with a playful glint in his eyes as he joked around, so he kissed him instead. Right away John melted into him with a soft moan. Sadly, though, the kiss was only short lived.

“So, what are we doing about the lube thing?” Paul asked as he pulled away, wrapping his arms around John’s waist to hold him close to him while John wrapped his arm around his neck. He shrugged.

“Nothing, I guess. Just pretend nothing strange happened and let it be for a little while. As long as she doesn’t see anything else that’s suspicious, there’s no reason for her to make a big deal out of the lube thing. It might as well have been from other people. People live a lot of shit behind, you know,” John said.

“What? Like you and me cuddling in your big double bed?”

“Something along those lines would do that trick.” John replied with a cheeky wink, grabbing one of Paul’s hands and lowering it to his butt. Paul playfully slapped it before pulling away.

“Come on,” he said, “I put on some tea. Let’s go get your stuff downstairs and have some tea before your mother walks in on us, then.” John reluctantly agree and slowly got off the bed while mumbling curses, seemingly having enjoyed their little cuddles.

“Besides, you’re probably right. She does let me take you shopping for a suit somewhere in the next few weeks,” Paul said as he took John’s hand in his and pulled him to him, making it up to him with a sweet little kiss in the crook of his neck, like he knew John liked, being careful not to leave a mark as he lightly sucked on his skin.

“Suit? What suit?” John asked, and Paul slowly pulled away.

“I er… George is going to take me shopping for my wedding suit soon, so I thought it’d be logical to bring you along for yours at the same time.” John took a step away from him at those words, staring at him with wide eyes as he shook his head.

“I’m _not_ coming to the wedding,” he said.

“Of course, you are! It’s your mother’s wedding. You have to.”

“But it’s _your_ wedding, too! I don’t want to see _your_ wedding when you’re marrying someone other than me.”

“John-“

“I’m serious! Besides, weddings are a drag. All those family members pinching your cheeks and saying how much you’ve grown, even if you haven’t grown an inch since two years ago. And people _always_ start crying. Fuck knows why? I’m not coming.”

“Come on, John!

“No! I’m not doing it!” he exclaimed and Paul groaned, shaking his head. He reached for John’s hands, taking them in his own, before looking up to meet his eyes.

“Your mum will be devastated if you don’t come. You have to John. Just bring Cyn or Stu along to keep you company, but your mother really wants you to be there!”

“Fuck what she wants.”

“John!”

“I’m not taking Stu or Cyn. Stu’s in Hamburg anyway and Cyn’s too busy with her own fiancé and shit. Besides, she wouldn’t really understand. And people will think she’s my date. I can’t deal with people continuously asking when I’m proposing to her and urging her to catch the bride’s bouquet, or something as ridiculous as that.”

“Okay. Then bring someone else. Just… please, John. I… I need you there.”

“You fucking kidding me, McCartney?!”

“John, _please_. She’s your mother. She’ll be devastated if you won’t come. Jules will be, too. And I…” Paul’s voice died off at the end, unsure how to continue what he wanted to see, but John had seemed to understood it all anyway, as he lightly squeezed Paul’s hands as he nodded, his gaze focused on the ground.

“Fine…” he said, his voice breaking, “Fine, I’ll just… I’ll take Eric. You know, the guy who saved me from freezing to death after that sailor beat me up a few months ago.” Paul nodded and offered John a thankfully smile, but John didn’t want to see it, and pulled away from Paul, instead, keeping his eyes lowered. “And I’ll come with you to buy a suit.”

 “Thanks, John,” Paul said, but John didn’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmured with a shrug, taking his bags and moving towards the door. Paul stopped him just in time by grabbing his wrist. He promptly turned him around and kissed him again.

“I love you,” he muttered against John’s mouth, feeling how his lips trembled against his own, “I can’t do this without you.”

“I love you, too, Macca,” John said with a sigh and Paul could hear he meant it. John loved him. That was everything that was important in that moment, so he kissed him again.

* * *

 

After they had gotten home from their holiday, everyone fell back into their usual routine fairly quickly: during the week they got up, fought over who was allowed to use the bathroom first (Julia more often than not, but not because she played fair) and quickly devoured their breakfasts, before John went to get the bus, Paul took Jules to school with the car and Julia rode the bicycle to work or to visit her sister Mimi, depending on what day it was. At the end of the afternoon, they all came home and Jules did her homework, while Paul helped John with his, which mostly resulted in a fervent make-out session or a jam session, while Julia would do most of the chores (some she left for Paul to do in the evening), before either she or Paul would cook and they all met at the dining table before splitting up again. The weekends were mostly the same as the afternoons and evenings, but with John mostly being out with his friends. Paul tried to spend time with Julia, but always seemed to find himself thinking about John again, so he spent more and more time with Jules instead. To bond, was the excuse he used. Not that it was needed. Jules absolutely adored him. Bonding even more would almost be impossible.

Every other minute of the day was used to plan the wedding, which might have been one of the reasons why Paul didn’t like being around Julia for too long. Not a minute passed by or they would be talking about the wedding again. Frankly, he didn’t want to think about the wedding. Sure, he was excited for it and he still loved Julia (just because it was different, didn’t mean he didn’t really love her, he reasoned) and wanted to marry her, but every time he’d let his mind free to fantasise about that wonderful day, John kept popping up in his head. It was frustrating. He wanted to enjoy it, wished he could be as excited as Julia, but every time he felt like he was dropped into the deep black hole. Still, he tried his best to help Julia and show that he was truly excited about it, even if it meant going over the list of music more times than he could count without changing a single song, or looking at fifty different bride’s bouquets.

Happily, the days were peaceful and quite, without any fights or terrible disagreements. Even Julia seemed more relaxed as the days went by, and after some weeks Paul and John felt comfortable again to get more hands-y around each other. Although they had been laying low for at least three weeks, and hadn’t gotten too physical since their holiday, they had spent more time together, with Paul now fully tutoring John and trying to help him get his grades up and show him he could do this to get him into art school, like John wanted to. It seemed like the younger man was now really setting his heart to it, and Paul was surprised to find just how clever John was.  Of course, it was too far into the school year for John to be able to pass, but that didn’t matter. It showed John he _could_ do it, and with just a bit more confidence and hard work, Paul was certain he could pass the year after and go to art school.

It was nice to simply live his life for a little while, enjoying every day and taking it for what it was and truly making the best of the time he had with John. Of course, the arguments hadn’t been forgotten, but it seemed that slowly, but surely, they both started to come to terms with the inevitable end of their relationship and the situation they were in. They didn’t like it, of course, but both -  even John - started to see there truly was no other feasible option for them, and the more John started to understand that and deal with that, the easier it was for Paul to let it go, as well. They could even talk about it without it turning into a fight at the end. For once, everything seemed alright.

“Paul?” John one evening asked as they were in John’s little single bed again – they missed the double bed a lot – catching his lover’s attention who looked up at him through his lashes with a rather annoyed look in his eyes. John ignored it and only smiled as him as he pushed Paul’s hair back and cradled his head in his hand. “What d’you want for your birthday?” The annoyed glare turned almost murderous and John couldn’t help but snicker as his lover pulled off with a wet plop and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You fucking kidding me, Lennon? I’m here trying to give you the best blowjob of your life and instead of enjoying it, you’re thinking about my _birthday_?” he 

“Well, it _is_ only two weeks away,” he said and Paul hit his thigh as punishment, before leaning back down and sucking the head of John’s cock back into his mouth, licking along the underside of it with his tongue, as he knew John was sensitive there. Sure enough, John groaned from deep in his throat and let himself fall back with his head in his pillow as he tangled his fingers into Paul’s hair and pulled.

“Seriously, though… anything you’d like to have?” John asked again and Paul rolled his eyes, before pulling away again and taking over with his hand.

“I’d like you to shut up and let me make you feel good, alright?” he retorted and John snorted, shaking his head.

“Come on, Paul. I want to give you something nice, you know. You got me a damn guitar. I might as well try, you know?”

“I want you.”

“You already have me,” John grinned and Paul pretended to look surprised.

 “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot,” John said and Paul chuckled at that, before leaning up and placing a kiss to John’s lips, muttering an affectionate “git” against them.

“So, you don’t want a present, then?” John asked as they pulled away. Paul shook his head, giving John’s cock an affectionate squeeze as he lowered his head down to John’s bare chest to kiss him there, making his way to his nipples and circling them, teasing with his tongue and lightly blowing cold air over the wetted skin. He took his time, moving lazily and not leaving any spot untouched.  John shivered at the attention.

“I don’t need any presents, John,” Paul said and John bit back a moan as Paul started moving his hand up and down again with languid strokes, paying special attention to all his sensitive spots, making it more and more difficult to focus.

“Not needing any, doesn’t mean you can’t want any.”

“Well, I don’t want any either. I already know you love me. You don’t need to show me that by giving me stupid presents,” Paul muttered as he brushed his lips over one of John’s nipples, causing John’s breath to hitch at the touch.

“You know,” the younger man huffed as Paul smirked at his little reaction and curled his tongue around the little nub instead, “you’re the only guy - no wait, person – who has ever been _this_ difficult about getting birthday presents. You’re supposed to like getting them, you know.”

“There’s a first time for everything, John,” Paul muttered against his skin before giving a suddenly twist to the younger man’s cock, causing him to gasp and thrust up his hips in pleasure, his slowly nearing orgasm pulling at his gut.

“Fine,” John finally gave in, “But I’m still getting you a present. Now, get me off.” Paul smirked again, before twisting his wrist again, doing as John had asked and not wasting any time doing so.

          The birthday present wasn’t mentioned again after that, but Paul could see John hadn’t giving up on the idea of giving him a present. The boy was watching him almost constantly, seeing what he was doing, what he was using, what he wasn’t using, what he read, what he didn’t read, what he listened to, what he liked doing in his free time, etc. Paul could constantly feel those almond eyes focused on him, digging into his back. And sometimes he’d even see John walking around the city centre, looking at shop windows and going from shop to shop. It was kind of flattering in a way, but Paul wished he wouldn’t put so much effort into one stupid gift. He didn’t even want anything and the one thing he _did_ truly want, he couldn’t have. Still, John seemed to feel the need to get him something, so Paul let him, secretly curious what John would get him. After all, maybe he would like it, though he figured he’d like anything as long as it came from John.

However, he didn’t have much time to fantasise about John’s potential present, being too preoccupied with the wedding. Pattie and George were coming over to visit them at least once a week now to discuss things and Pattie had tried at least a dozen different hairstyles on Julia by now, and still wasn’t perfectly happy with any of them. Paul couldn’t really understand why, thinking she’d probably look gorgeous in whatever Pattie put on her, clothes-wise, make-up-wise and hair-wise. Pattie was great at what she did and Julia was just a beautiful woman. Still, he kept shut about it, letting them have their fun with it. What harm did it do, anyway? And Pattie probably knew best anyway.

George, too, had started to get a bit er… _overenthusiastic_ about things. Paul had a hard time keeping up with everything, but it seemed like George and Julia knew exactly what they had and hadn’t planned and arranged yet, so he left most of it to them, knowing he could trust them with it. George and Julia told him exactly what he needed to do when and what his options were if he needed to make a decision; sometimes they’d already made the decision for him and he only needed to agree. As a consequence, he was being led through the whole wedding-thing quite easily.

It was the week before his birthday – as far as Paul knew, John still hadn’t gotten him a present - when George showed up at his door to take him shopping for his suit. It was a few minutes past one, and Paul had still been in the middle of his lunch when the doorbell rang. He took his cheese sandwich with him as he went to answer the door, surprised when he found his best mate standing behind the door with a huge grin on his face, looking _excited_ , although Paul couldn’t guess what for. George didn’t even say “hi”.

“You’re not ready, yet?! Come on, Paul! We have no time to lose!” he said instead, grabbing Paul by his shoulders and forcing him back inside with him. Paul let him, still too confused to do anything against it, his brain still working out why George was there at all.

“No time to lose? For what?!”

“For your suit, of course! Who knows how long you’re going to take.”

“My suit?”

“Yeah! I just called you yesterday, Paul. How can you already have forgotten?” George asked with a roll of his eyes, and Paul abruptly stopped, a deep frown in his forehead.

“You didn’t call me,” he said, turning around to George, who frowned back at him, before realisation struck him.

“Oh… right… I forgot. I _was_ going to call you. Anyway, you don’t have anything to do today, do you?” he asked.

“Goddammit, George! You’re lucky I don’t and that John’s still at home for that matter. How could you possibly forget to call me about something like this?” Paul said, more than a little annoyed, promptly handing George the rest of his sandwich, before walking over stairs to call for John to come down.

“John?” George asked, after he heard John shout back that he was coming. Paul sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he nodded.

“Yeah. Julia asked me if we could buy him a suit as well when we’d go buying one for me, which would be difficult if he wasn’t here to come with us. Remind me again, George, why did I chose you to be my best mate?”

“Because you don’t have any other friends?” George joked and Paul scoffed.

“Fuck off. I could have asked someone else, if I had wanted to,” he said as he started to walk around the house to get all the stuff he needed. As he passed the stairs again, he called up again.

“Yes! I’m coming. I’m only having a wank. Don’t get your knickers in a twist!” John shouted back and Paul tried not to flush as he turned back to see George looking at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Straightforward lad,” he noted, sounding amused, and Paul tried to smile at him.

“You have no idea. John! We have to go! George is here! We’re going shopping!”

“George? Oh shit! Er… why do I need to come, anyway?”

“It’s for the wedding, so that includes you!”

“Fucking- alright! I’m coming,” John shouted back and Paul was relieved he didn’t put up more of a fight. However, he did hope George didn’t think too deeply about the wanking-comment and didn’t think it was weird. Why couldn’t the idiot remember to use the phone when he needed to?

It didn’t take them much longer to get ready. John was downstairs and ready to go in less than three minutes, and Paul was ready himself about a few seconds later, and not seven minutes after George had rang their doorbell, they were sitting in Paul’s car together, Paul having decided that if they were going to shop for something as classy as wedding suits, they were going to do so in style and take the car and not the bus.

When they got into the centre of the city and they stood before the shop where George had wanted to take Paul for his wedding suit, Paul’s agitation had left his body, and everything was good and well again. Now, only John looked slightly nervous.

“You okay?” Paul whispered into his ear as they followed George into the shop, his hand resting low on John’s back to guide him, even if it wasn’t necessary, since John had thought of putting his Buddy Holly glasses on. He had to see the suits well, after all. He didn’t want Paul to put him into something that made him look like a dressed-up circus monkey who stole some famous guy’s glasses.

“I’m fine.” John whispered back, forcing a smile that anyone could see wasn’t genuine, but Paul decided not to push it and let it slide. He shot the younger man a reassuring smile, before they too disappeared into the fancy shop.

The shop itself wasn’t that special. It looked fancy, with shiny wooden floors, full-length mirrors and all the fancy suits and shelves filled with ties and dress-shirts, but there wasn’t many suits on display, most of them being stored away in the back to be viewed on request. A handsome young gentleman greeted them and seemed to have expected them, which Paul supposed he ought to give George some credit for. At least he didn’t forget to call someone, which was better than nothing. George also quickly informed the man about John and that he was looking for something else well, seeing as it was his mother getting married. The man nodded and smiled politely and told them he had some suits ready for Paul to try on to see what he liked and he would ask one of his co-workers to do the same for John. Then, he asked Paul to follow him to the dressing rooms, while George and John would wait. He’d have Paul come out to show off his suits whenever he had forced himself into something he liked. George and John took a seat and both whished Paul luck, before the older man disappeared with the young gentleman to the dressing rooms at the back of the shop, away from prying eyes.

There were two other costumers at the shop: one had found what he was looking for and was getting ready to pay, as the other was busy trying to hopelessly explain what kind of dress his bride had so they could match. Paul didn’t say anything as he let himself be led into one of the dressing rooms where he was told to undress while he waited. The young gentleman, who had introduced himself to Paul as Daniel, went out to give him some privacy and to get the first couple of suits. Already, at the words “first couple of suits” Paul felt exhausted and hoped that it would stay with that “first couple of suits”.

Relief washed over him, when Daniel came back, holding only three suits, all very differently cut. George had already sort of informed what type of suit would be suitable for the wedding, so there were only three suits left for him. He could pick one he liked best and they could go from there.

“I was told you wanted a black suit, is that correct?” Daniel asked as he offered Paul the first of the three suits. The other two he hung up on a peg outside the dressing room before joining Paul to help him into it and to adjust things and hear his feedback. Paul nodded as he tried to squirm his way into the slacks. They were tight, perhaps a little too tight.

“Yes. We er… we’d like to keep it traditional on that part.”

“And who is the lucky lady, if I might ask?” Daniel asked as he tightened the waist of the trousers so they fitted more securely around Paul’s waist. He also hitched up the pipes, which were slightly too long, before handing Paul his shirt, waistcoat and finally his jacket.

“She’s a great gal, you know. Red curly hair, gorgeous brown eyes. She even has those little dimples in her cheeks when she laughs too hard. Clever too, very musical.”

“She sounds lovely,” Daniel commented as he looked Paul over through the mirror, frowning whenever he saw something that didn’t please him. Paul couldn’t blame him. The suit didn’t do it at all for him. It was too tight around his thighs, the long at the ankles and waist was too wide. The cut of the trousers made his legs look bulky and the jacket made him look fatter than he was. It wasn’t flattering at all and Paul was happy when Daniel told him they would try something different.

“She is. She has two children, too. Lovely, they are. One is ten, the other eighteen,” Paul mused as Daniel helped him into the second one.

“That’s the boy who is waiting outside, then? He must be a handful,” he said and Paul chuckled as he nodded, his mind giving an entirely different meaning to the word “handful”.

“He is. But he’s a good lad. Clever, witty, even kind and sweet when he’s not trying to impress people by being a dick. Very talented too.”

“You like him then?” Daniel asked as he stepped closer to inspect the fit of the suits a little better.

“I do,” Paul replied with a soft smile. Daniel pulled, tugged and twisted some things as Paul looked at himself in the mirror, feeling much more pleased, though there was something not quite right. Then he realised what it was: the suit was collarless and although it looked kind of nice, it wasn’t really what he was going for. “Do you have something like this, but with a collar?” he asked, catching Daniel’s attention, who smiled broadly before nodding, clearly liking that idea.

“I think I have just the thing in mind. One moment, please.”

          John waited nervously in his seat for Paul to come back, feeling rather awkward, sitting beside a man he had only seen twice before in his life. He tried to entertain himself by looking around the shop at the little artwork on the walls and the few mannequins that were dotted around the place. There were magazines to look through, but they were all either on suits or weddings and both made him feel anxious.

He’d never had to buy a suit until now, and the thought of actually needing to wear one was kind of freaking him out. He didn’t want to wear a suit. Suits were for grown-ups and adults and those mindless workers who kept going to the office every day to work at the stupid jobs with their stupid co-workers to earn stupid money for their stupid family, like a zombie. John didn’t want to be like that. He didn’t know what he _did_ want to be – an artist or a rock star like Elvis would be nice, but even he could see that was rather unrealistic – but he knew _that_ wasn’t it. Suits were for normal people, dull people, and the last thing John wanted was to be normal or dull.

He’d probably look ridiculous in one anyway.

When Paul finally came back to them, after what seemed like far too long to try on a suit or two, John had to take a deep breath to calm himself. He had never seen Paul in a full suit before. Only slacks with button-ups or sweaters or whatever, but never a full on suit and he looked great. No, not great, but jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and even that seemed to be an understatement in John’s eyes. The suit wasn’t perfect yet, and John could see it still needed to be taking in at certain places to accentuate the lines of Paul’s body. The suit was actually a black, but with a grey jacket that had a single bronze button that was slightly lower than it normally would have been, leaving enough visible of the black vest that was buttoned up higher and the crisp white dress-shirt. The tie they had gone for was a dark olive green, the colour of which came back in the floral patterned handkerchief that was stuffed in the pocket of his jacket. It was tight-fitting, accentuating all his best assets, making Paul appear slimmer than he actually was. The buttons shined so beautifully, John felt the need to undo them.

The man himself was smiling from ear to ear as he walked over to them, clearly loving what he had found on apparently the first try. George and John got up as Paul stopped before them, turning around to look at himself in the full-length mirrors. John felt his cheeks heat up as he looked at the man’s back, the lines of that jacket guiding his gaze down, further down, until they landed on Paul’s ass. Damn.

“So? What do you guys think?” Paul asked, the happiness shining through in his voice, and John looked up to catch Paul’s eyes through the mirror. He nodded.

“It looks great! Looks like we’re already done!” George exclaimed beside him and John nodded again in agreement unsure what to say. Paul looked stunning as he stood there, legs wide, shoulders broad, back straight, never fading smile on his lips.

“You think so too, John?” Paul asked, turning around a few times to look at himself from different angles and John nodded again.

“Yes. Oh yes, you look gorgeous.”

“The material is actually very light, which will be nice outside. It can also handle a bit of rain, so you needn’t worry about that,” the young gentlemen said and Paul nodded.

“I love this one, Daniel,” he said and John again could only nod.

“Do you want to try on anything else?” Daniel asked and Paul shared a few looks with George and John, before deciding that this was the one.

“Fantastic! Let’s continue on. How about you? John, is it?” Daniel asked, eyeing John, who froze at the spot, all happiness suddenly flowing out of his body, leaving him cold. Still, he nodded. Maybe, if Paul looked good in a suit, he would too.

          Paul could see John was nervous as the two of them were being taken back to the dressing rooms, Paul to change back into his regular clothes and John to try on his own suit. He was constantly fidgeting with his sleeves and rocking from one foot to the other. It was understandable. Paul didn’t remember when he first tried on a suit (he supposed when his mother had passed away), but he did remember he had been young and had felt incredibly uncomfortable in the thing, his awkward teenage-body not yet ready for suits. John wasn’t much of a suit person. Paul doubted he had ever even considered he’d one day be wearing one, so he got changed as slowly as possible to make sure he could stick around, hoping his presence would put John at ease a bit more.

When Paul got out of his dressing room, John had just managed to get the first one on, and Daniel, having heard the dressing room door open, called him in to have a look. John did look incredibly awkward and uncomfortable as he stood there in the middle of the dressing room, wearing a simple black suit with green tie.

“I thought you’d might you like if you matched,” Daniel explained as he saw Paul looking. The older man nodded and smiled, silently agreeing, as he continued to take in the sight of John. He didn’t look good. Far from it. He was quite dashing in his little suit with his glasses, and the suit itself fitted him well, but the way John was holding himself made it all look a little comical: slumped shoulders, legs tightly together, knees locked, head cocked to the side, back hollow.

“Maybe something with skinnier legs, to accentuate his height? I mean, you’re both almost the same height, but now you look much taller,” Daniel told him and Paul nodded, stepping further into the room to allow Daniel the space he needed to go find something else that would fit John better. As soon as he had left and had closed the door behind him, John let out a deep breath closed his eyes, looking rather pained.

“What is it, John?” Paul asked, walking over until he stood behind John, laying his hands on his shoulder to massage him and adjust his stance.  

“I look fucking ridiculous,” John groaned in disappointment and Paul quickly turned John’s head to face him and kissed him, taking the younger man by surprise.

“You look _handsome_ , John. Not ridiculous. You just need to relax a little, get comfortable,” Paul whispered, tightening his grip as he continued to massage him. Slowly, John started to relax into him. His muscles relaxed, his stance widened and slowly all the tension ebbed away from him. “You have no idea just how beautiful you are, do you?” Paul asked and John flushed, opening his eyes to meet Paul’s through the mirror and offering him a kind smile.

“You looked much more beautiful than I do. God, Paul… It’s not fair.”

“That I look gorgeous in a suit and you don’t? Because that’s bullshit.”

“No. Mum gets to marry you and I don’t.”

“We’ve talked about this. It’s-“

“I know, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not true,” John said and Paul blinked at him a few times. Before he could say more, Daniel re-entered the room, ordering John to take that suit off and try something else. This one looked better, but John still wasn’t feeling it, but slowly and surely, with the help of Paul and Daniel, they found something. Something black and simple, with straight lines, no pattern and the basic slacks, dress-shirt and jacket. His tie was the same as with the first one, but seemed darker against the black of the suit. Slowly, but surely, however, John started to feel more comfortable in the suits and not an hour later, they had found something for him, too. John couldn’t keep his eyes from the mirror, a smug smirk on his face as he enjoyed the view of his own looks. When Daniel left them alone so John could change back into his own clothes, Paul stepped closer to him, wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his neck.

“My handsome man,” he whispered, causing John to blush, before turning around and kissing Paul’s lips, pulling at them and sucking them between his own, before releasing them with a tug of his teeth.

“Julia better fucking realise how lucky she is with you,” he muttered and Paul smiled against John’s mouth, before cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

“Or else?”

“I’ll steal you away, anyway. With this suit, I can lure you anywhere. I’ll simply take you with me to New York. No one will find us there,” John joked. Paul didn’t deny it and only kissed him again, which told John all he needed to know.


	30. Chapter 30

The school halls were quiet and deserted as John made his way to the crafts schoolroom at the lower level of the building, which he knew would be empty at this time of day. He was supposed to be in his history class, but he had more important things to do, so he figured skipping one class wouldn’t be the most horrible thing he had ever done. He knew he shouldn’t, of course. Not with Paul trying so hard to tutor him and make him see how clever he was and how well he could do in school if he put the effort into it. He was certain Paul would forgive him if he saw why he had felt the need to skip the most boring class of that day, however.

Finally, John had managed to find a birthday present for Paul’s birthday. It had taken him a while, but he had managed to find something that wasn’t suspicious at first sight, unless you knew what to look for. He had gotten Paul a plain paperback edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets: a perfectly dull and stupid present for an English teacher, he supposed. Or that’s what it was meant to look like. In truth, it was actually much more romantic. Not long ago, he had had to read some of the sonnets for his English class and had been reminded of Paul more often than he’d like to admit. It was daft really, but after he had bought the book he had stayed up all night, reading all the poems and circling every single one that reminded him of Paul. Except for sonnet 128, for which he had a better idea. Perhaps it was sappy, but he had gotten Paul a plain plectrum as well - small, black and easy to hold. It would be perfect, though, with one simple modification, which was why he was skipping class to sneak into the empty classroom in the first place, knowing he’d be able to find something sharp enough to do the job there.

As expected, the classroom was empty, and John slipped inside, before closing the door behind him and placing a chair under the handle to keep people from interrupting him. He needed to concentrate if he didn’t want to fuck this up. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be able to get a new plectrum to use, but it was already Friday and Paul’s birthday was that coming Sunday, leaving him with no time to get back into the school to give it another shot. He dropped his bag on the floor, took off the jacket of his school uniform, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, before quickly hurrying around the room to find what he was looking for. He soon managed to find some flat gravers and a small hammer that would do the job, and set everything up he needed at the woodworking bench, before grabbing himself a seat and sitting down behind it. He took the plectrum from his trouser pocket and carefully laid it out on the table. He studied it for a bit, before grabbing a pencil and making a little design on the bench, not bothering to find himself some paper. There were too many scribbles on there anyway, so no one would even notice his little sketch: JL/PM. If he worked carefully, he could just manage to get it to be small enough to fit. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he took the amateurish tools in hand and set to work, doing so carefully and diligently, wanting it to be perfect. Or as close to that as possible.

He really hoped Paul would like it and wouldn’t think it was too sappy and laugh at him for it. Paul was the most romantic one out of the two of them, but John had his moments every once in a while and whereas Paul was simply romantic, John was sappy. Terribly so. Like, sappy long love letters and holding hands and long warm baths with champagne and wearing each other’s clothes and moonlight dining and romantic getaways and having sex in front of fireplaces on a fur rug with rose paddles and wine and watching the stars kind of romantic. Giving the other sappy, sickening gifts was just a part of that. But Paul wasn’t like that. He wrote songs and wanted to do stuff with you and enjoy the outdoors and just stay in to have a great night together and be a little silly. He’d probably laugh if John would prepare him a candlelight dinner under the stars with champagne and romantic violin music. He just hoped he wouldn’t laugh at his present.

Working as hard and fastidiously as he was, he didn’t hear it when the door to the classroom opened and the chair was simply pushed aside, not having been placed properly. It was working, though, and his effort was paying off. Slowly, but surely, he could see the beginnings of his and Paul’s initials taking shape. He paused briefly to inspect his work and wipe away some of the excess.  

“John?” a voice came from behind him. He glanced over this shoulder to see Stuart standing in the doorway, and offered him a smile, before beckoning him to come inside. “What are you doing?”

“Arts and crafts,” John replied, laying the plectrum back down and picking up his tools again, consequently turning his back on his mate.  

“I can see that. What are you making?” Stuart asked, walking over to his friend.

“Just engraving a plectrum.”

“Oh, of course. What else?”

“Everyday stuff, really. What are you doing here?” John asked, bending forward to see better. The whole thing was quite small and it was difficult to see what he was doing, especially with his bulky tools, even with his glasses on his nose. Stuart rested a hand on the working bench and leaned forward too to see. John caught him smirking when he saw what he was actually engraving.

“For Paul, I take it?” he asked knowingly and John nodded, his lips curling up into a smile as well.

“It’s his birthday this Sunday,” he said and Stuart hummed in reply.

“How old?”

“Like you really care,” John said, briefly glancing up at his friend, who shrugged.

“I care. Seeing as he’s your boyfriend and all.”

“Lover, actually. We’ve decided on ‘lover’. Besides, it’s not like you approve.”

“But I am your friend and he makes you happy, so yeah… I care,” Stuart explained and John halted his work for a moment as he let that sink in, before glancing up at Stuart again with a thankful smile. “Anyway. I just wanted to ask how you were doing.”

“I’m fine, Stu. Why wouldn’t I be?” John asked as he set back to work. He needed to finish this thing before the end of the next lesson and so far he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d need. The inscription still looked very vague and his “P” looked like a “I” still, never mind the “m”, which didn’t look like anything yet, least of all a “m”. Stuart got himself a seat as well, and sat down next to him to watch him work as they spoke.

“Because of the band? Me leaving? The thing with that Epstein guy?”

“You heard?” John asked, relieved when Stuart shook his head.

“No one else knows. I talked to him at the record store. To hear about the band, you know. Since you didn’t tell me anything other than that the band was over.”

“You didn’t need to know more.”

“I’m still your friend,” Stuart told him, but John didn’t reply to that. “I miss it, you know,” Stuart continued with a sigh, resting his head on his hand as he focused on John’s working hands. The intensity of his gaze made John tremble for a moment before he found his control again.

“I do too, Stu. Fuck, of course I bloody miss it.” John muttered.

“I miss you, too.” He looked up at his friend at that, surprised, before he started laughing. He had to take the tools of the plectrum to make sure he didn’t accidentally cock anything up.

“And I’m the queer one?”

“I’m serious, John. We should hang out again soon. Like before.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because I’m kind of busy now,” John asked, frowning when Stuart shook his head.

“No. I was looking for a model, actually. What do you say?” he asked and John blinked up at him a few times, before he smiled.

“Depends on what you’d have me do.”

“You’ll need to take off your shirt. I need to practise my male anatomy, but it needs to look casual.”

“I don’t know, Stu…” John said, not sure he truly wanted to pose for Stuart without a shirt on, feeling rather subconscious about everyone seeing it when he was done.

“It’s only a sketch. My teacher is the only one who’s going to see it. And I’ll buy you lunch. Please, John?” Stuart all but begged and John finally gave in, not being able to say no to a free lunch on an empty stomach. Even if it was already two and he had just had lunch one and a half hours ago.

“Sure,” he said, “But I have to finish this first.”

          Not an hour later, John sat in the art room on a chair with shirt of, looking awkwardly into the distance and trying his hardest not to move, not to try to cover up and not to burst out laughing. He wasn’t used to posing anymore, the last time anyone had sketched him being Stuart when he had ran away from home after then news of Paul and Julia’s engagement, some months ago. He felt incredibly awkward, sitting bare-chested in a cold classroom, staring solemnly out of a window out of which he could see the sun shining, while his best mate stared at him with a scrutinising look as he worked on his sketch. Still, he tried his best, especially now that he had enjoyed his free food so thoroughly.

The left-over newspapers from the fish and chips were scattered around Stuart’s seat. Stuart had gotten them both some while John had finished up his little birthday gift – now safely stored away in the front left pocket of his trousers. It had turned out quite well, if he said so himself. The letters were clearly visible and you could even feel it if you stroked along it with your thumb, but it was easily looked over when you didn’t know it was there, much like their own relationship, but John didn’t think about it often like that, thinking that making it into a metaphor would ruin it. When he got home, he’d simply tape it into the book on the page with sonnet 128 and write his own little note there for Paul to read. He planned on giving it during Paul’s small birthday party, when the other guests were there as well. They probably wouldn’t even notice there was anything different about his “dull little gift”. After all, Paul already had a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, he knew, and a much nicer one than the one he had bought him. He had seen him reading it a couple of days ago, which was how he had gotten the idea.

Paul would notice, though. John could already picture his reaction. At first he’d be curious what he had gotten him and as he removed the wrapping paper he’d see that it was a book and then he’d be disappointed when he finally saw what book. But then, he’d skim through it anyway, probably to look polite, and he’d notice the little circles he had drawn around the numbers of some of the poems and he’d quickly close the book, seeing there was more to it. Then later, in private, he’d open the book and start reading, going through poem to poem and slowly he’d realise what he had done. Probably he’d find it sweet and adoring, or perhaps laughable, but still cute, and he’d continue on until he’d come to sonnet 128 and he’d see the plectrum and the engravings… John could picture him sitting there, probably on the edge of his bed while Julia was doing her stuff in the bathroom and staring down at the plectrum in his hand, lightly tracing the engraving with his fingertips and-

“John. You’re smiling,” Stuart’s voice interrupted his daydream. He blushed like a child just having been caught doing something naughty and tried to wipe the smile off his face. Stuart didn’t like it when his subjects smiled. It messed with the muscles of his face and neck and it even effected their pose. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” John replied, forcing the corners of his mouth to go down.

“Paul?”

“I told you, it was nothing. How far did you get?” John asked turning his head to his friend, hoping the change the subject. Stuart grinned knowingly at him, but didn’t try to dig any deeper.

“I’m getting there. Want to see?” John nodded eagerly and let his body relax as Stuart got up to show him his work so far – he had needed a small break. His friend knelt down at his feet and handed John his sketchbook, letting him see what it looked like. John smiled as he looked it over, seeing himself – Stuart _had_ made him look fitter than he was – sitting on a chair, looking solemnly up at something in the distance, his ankles crossed over each other and tucked to the side. A lightly flowing blanket was draped over his lower body, the outline of which was still visible through it, making him look slightly like a Greek god. The imagine was almost suggestive, or at least in John’s mind.

“Can you make a copy?” he asked, still carefully studying his friend’s work.

“For Paul?” Stuart asked, but John didn’t even need to say anything. He gave in with a nod and a sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to have to sit longer. You can tell Paul it’s my birthday present to him.”

“Thanks, Stu,” John said, handing Stuart his sketchbook back, who patted his knee as he got back up to his feet to take his seat again. John quickly took a sip of water, before he assumed his previous position again, eager to get started again in exchange for a copy, knowing Paul would love that. Stuart laughed at his eagerness.

          John sat quietly on his bed in his bedroom, staring down at the drawing in his hand as he firmly refused to look at the fancy new suit that hung from his closet. Julia had forbidden him from hanging it anywhere, being afraid it might crease or get a stain if it was put away anywhere else. John didn’t like it, though, the suit being a constant reminder of what would happen in only a few months’ time. Or rather, what would end. Both Julia and Paul had told him to wear it occasionally, to start to feel more comfortable in it, but John wasn’t sure if he would. It felt wrong to.

Stuart’s drawing had turned out wonderful. He had given John the original, while doing a copy for himself, believing the second one was better technically, while the first one had more emotion to it, thus serving best for each other’s needs that way. John knew he couldn’t give it to Paul with all those other people there. It was too telling. Too explicit even. Julia and Jules, however, would be going to Pattie’s that evening for their hair – John hoped the last time, as they had gone there almost five times already for the exact same thing – meaning he had Paul would be alone for the evening. It was the perfect moment.

Listening closely to the voices downstairs, John waited impatiently for them to finally leave, so he could stop pretending to be an angry teenager and have fun with his lover for a few hours until they would come home. Finally, after five more minutes at least, John heard Julia and Jules kiss Paul goodbye and pull the door close behind them to catch their bus. Not a few seconds later, Paul called up.

“They’re gone!” he shouted and John quickly rolled up the drawing, jumped up from his bed and hurried out of his little bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Coming!”

“Do you want a beer?”

“Please!” John took two steps at the time, and just saw Paul disappearing into the kitchen as he jumped down the last three steps. He happily hurried into the living room to let himself fall down on the couch. Right away it felt good with Elvis already crooning in his ear from the record player. When Paul came back into the room, he shot up and hid the rolled-up drawing behind his back as she tried to smile innocently, failing terribly.

“What have you got there, John?” Paul asked with amusement as the put their beer down onto the coffee table. John shot him a coy little smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he joked with a wink and Paul shook his head as he took a seat next to John, turning his body to him as he pulled up his legs and hugged them close to his chest. The way he was sitting made him look several years younger, especially with that curious glint in his eyes. Teasingly slowly, John pulled the drawing from behind his back and offered it to Paul.

“It’s from Stuart,” he said and Paul frowned at that, but took it anyway.

“Stuart?”

“Yeah, he wishes you a happy birthday. Called you an ‘old goat’, too,” John said, figuring Stuart wouldn’t really mind that little lie.

“’Old goat’, eh? Polite lad, that is. First kissing my lover and then calling me an ‘old goat’.”

“He loves you dearly. Now, come on. See what it is!” John hurried him on and Paul glanced up at him with a doubtful look, before slowly unrolling the piece of paper. His cheeks flushed beautifully when he realised what he was looking at.

“He drew this?” he asked and John grinned.

“Jealous?” he asked and Paul scoffed.

“Hardly. I’d draw you completely naked if I had the chance. Though, I should thank him for drawing something like this. It’s er… quiet tantalising.”

“The model is sitting right here, you know? You can get the real thing,”

“Hmmm… true, but I like to be teased with,” Paul said and John laughed at that.

“Now, that’s something I find hard to believe. With me you’re always getting impatient and urging me on to “get fucking on with it or I’ll rip your balls off!”

“I’ve only said that once! And you _were_ taking forever.”

“Three minutes is not _forever_ , Paul, dear.”

“But every second with you is forever, John. Now come here and let me kiss you.”

“But I thought you liked to be teased,” John joked and Paul rolled his eyes, before grabbing John by his shirt and pulling him on top of him, making him straddle his thighs. He took his chance and kissed him full on the lips before John could make any other comment or joke, having had quite enough of those.

“I love you,” he whispered against John’s lips, his heart expanding as he felt John’s lips curl up in a smile against his, before he deepened the kiss with a wanton moan, his own fingers tangling into Paul’s hair as his tongue darted out to lick the older man’s lips. Paul opened his mouth without question, allowing John entrance as they melted into each other, their hearts and breathing synchronising. Finally, though, they needed to pull away; the music had stopped and both needed to hear some good rock ‘n roll. When Paul had put on Little Richard, he sat back down next to John immediately, grabbed their beers and cuddled up to him to snuggle while they drunk, listened and enjoyed each other’s simply company. The drawing, he carefully laid on the coffee table, as far away from their drinks to make sure it was as save as it could be. He smiled when he felt John’s lips in the crook of his neck, kissing him before pulling away to drink.

“I love you, too,” he muttered and leaned his head on Paul’s shoulder.

            John and Paul spend the whole evening sitting curled up together on the couch, talking and listening to music at first, until they had both decided to pick up a book and read for a little while. To make it more exciting and a “together”-thing, John had proposed they’d each pick a book for the other. Paul had been more than happy to agree, giving John Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens, while John gave Paul Alice in Wonderland. They sat down on either ends of the couch, a blanket wrapped around them both with steaming mugs of tea in their hands, as they started to read. Their feet were touching under the blankets, making each other ever aware of the other’s presence.

Soon, they were lost in each other’s favourite worlds, both reading the words the other had read so many times before and knew so well, if not almost by heart. Paul laughed at the absurdity of some of Alice’s adventures, while John sometimes chuckled at the irony of Dickens’ work and sometimes would cringe at the horrible moments. They moved around on the couch, and eventually ended up sitting against each other again, John with his head in Paul’s lap as Paul ran his fingers through John’s hair, comforting him. They were so caught up in each other, in their books, in the language, the rest of the world fell away from them. 

They were so caught up in everything else, that they didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t hear Jules slumping upstairs, didn’t hear Julia’s heels on the floorboards. The barely heard the loud thud of her overly full handbag falling to the ground in shock, followed by a high-pitched yelp.

* * *

 

Turning their heads in surprise, John and Paul were met with Julia standing the doorway of the living room, staring at them with eyes wide as she held onto the door frame with a trembling hand to steady herself. Her bag lay fallen on the ground, the contents scattered around it. Her cheeks had gone pale and her bottom lip was trembling, as if she wanted to say something.

“Julia…” Paul mouthed softly. The moment the name left his lips, both he and John realised what was happening and what they must look like in that moment: curled up together on the couch, John’s head in his lap, glasses cocked, one arm curled around Paul’s waist, Paul’s fingers lovingly running through his hair, blankets thrown over them to keep them warm as they both read their books. The scene couldn’t look anything other than familiar and loving – romantic even. John swiftly moved away from Paul, shooting to the other end of the couch, where he shrunk into himself, pulling his legs up to hug them close as his eyes snapped from Paul to his mother and back again. Paul sat completely still on the couch, as if frozen in place, staring at his fiancée, not knowing what to do next.

“Y-you… and J-john… I-I didn’t… Oh god,” Julia stammered, before she turned on her heels and ran upstairs, her hand now grabbing her stomach, the other grabbing at anything she passed to keep on her feet. Paul, as if suddenly being awoken from a trance, jumped up from the couch and ran after her, calling her name.

“Julia! Wait!” he shouted, but Julia only kept running. John could hear the bedroom door being slammed shut, before being opened and closed again, softer this time. Curious and shaking from the shock, John slowly managed to get off the couch as well. His legs were weak and trembling, making it difficult to move. His mind was fuzzy and racing as he tried to comprehend what had just happened in a matter of not even ten seconds, making it difficult to focus, but bit by bit he managed to drag himself into the hallway. He could hear his mother’s and Paul’s voices shouting at each other, and though it was muted, they were loud enough for John to hear exactly what they were saying. Carefully, he allowed himself to slide down onto the floor, his back resting against the wall as he stared down at the floor and listened, trying his hardest not to freak out and lose his mind.

“Not what it looks like?! Do you think I’m stupid, Paul?” John heard his mother shout, sounding like she was close to hyperventilating.

“No, of course not. We were only-“

“Then don’t lie to me, Paul! What else could it have been?”

“Julia, luv, you need to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking ‘luv’ me, McCartney. I don’t need to calm down. I have every fucking right to be upset!”

“Julia, please-“

“No! Oh fuck… I-I can’t believe it. Oh god! Oh dear god!”

“Julia-“

“I _saw_ you. Back in December. Sleeping on the couch with… with… John. My _son_. I- I didn’t want to believe it. I refused to believe it. Pretended I hadn’t seen it. But even then it was hard not to see. It was so obvious with the looks, the prolonged touches, and when I saw those pictures of you under John’s pillow… I can’t believe it, Paul. I can’t believe you would do that to me. My own _son.”_

“I never meant for it to happen.”

“Oh, didn’t you? What was it then? An _accident_?” John could hear the sarcasm drip from his mother’s voice and it made him nauseous. This was it. It had finally happened. They had been stupid for thinking they wouldn’t get caught. That they could get away with it. Would his mother… would she throw Paul out? Would she call the police?

“Things like this don’t simply happen, Paul! You could have stopped it. You could’ve… You cheated on me. With my own _son._ A _boy_.”

“I didn’t take advantage, if that’s what you’re thinking!”

“Didn’t take advantage?! The boy is _eighteen_! He barely knows how to cook his own food, how could he possibly _want_ something like _that_ and consent to it?! He’s not even half your age! How could you possibly think that is okay?! It’s not! It’s disgusting! _You_ disgust me.”

“Julia, please-“

“No! You’re sick, Paul. With a _man_ is one thing, but he’s _eighteen_! I can’t believe I ever thought I actually loved you. That I ever thought you loved me.”

“I do love you!”

“No, you don’t! You’re… you’re… a _homosexual_. You never lo-“

“I’m not! Julia, I do love you. What John and I had… it was never meant to last. I chose for _you_. I decided to _marry_ _you_. John and I would have stopped-“

“Shut up! You never _chose_ me. If you loved me you would have kept away from John. You would have tried to be _normal_. But you’re not. You’re not _normal._ You’re a sick pervert. I-I can’t even fucking look at you.” Julia spat and John bit back the tears that were burning behind his eyes. His mother’s words hurt. Her believes weren’t uncommon, but hearing them about him and Paul still hurt. He had always secretly hoped his mother would love him even if he did like men. That she would accept him and love him. But she didn’t. She thought he was _sick, disgusting_ … He couldn’t take it anymore. He struggled to breathe and he needed to get out. To get away. To not hear or feel anymore.

With trembling limps, he crawled up onto the feet and stumbled over to the front door, grabbing his coat and shoes on his way. His mother was still shouting. Paul was still trying to soothe her, to explain, to talk himself out of it. But John knew it was futile. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to leave. Needed to go somewhere he was save. Where his mother wouldn’t get to him.

“Fucking leave, Paul! I want you to fucking get out of my house, my life, my son’s life and I never want to see you and you’re sick perverted ways every again, you hear me?! OUT!” Julia screamed and John could hear something being smashed, though he didn’t know who had thrown what at whom. He didn’t stick around to find out either. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and got out, sighing as the quiet midnight air enveloped him and blocked out the screams. He didn’t even bother closing the door. He simply took his bike and went.

          Not long after, John cycled up the driveway of Mendips. The lights were still on, so John threw his bike aside, not bothering to lock it, and rang the doorbell, not going around the back like his aunt preferred. He wasn’t thinking straight, with his mind being all over the place. He just needed to get inside. Luckily, his aunt was quick to open up.

“John!” she called in surprise, “Oh boy, what happened to you. You’re all white. And your eyes. Have you been crying?” She quickly grabbed her nephew by his arms and pulled him inside the house.

“I-I-“ John tried, but he couldn’t utter a word. Mimi shushed him and helped him out of his coat and shoes, before guiding him into the front room where she sat him down onto the couch. The fire was roaring and John immediately felt better as the warmth of the fire crawled under his skin, warming him up slowly but surely. On the coffee table lay a book by Charles Dickens. He wanted to cry, but forced himself not to, knowing his aunt wouldn’t approve.

“Are you alright?” Mimi asked, kneeling down before him with an uncharacteristically loving and tender look on her face. For a moment John almost saw her as the nurse he had known from his childhood. He weakly shook his head, grabbing his stomach.

“Are you nauseous?” she asked and John nodded, afraid he might throw up if he opened his mouth. Julia knew. His mother knew. She knew it all. About him. About him liking men. About Paul. About their affair. In that moment it truly felt as if his entire life had come crashing down on top of him, leaving him unable to breathe properly. Paul and he were over now. What Julia would do with them both, John didn’t know. What was going to happen to him? What if he needed to go see a doctor or go to an institution or something to _cure_ him? The thought alone almost caused him to hyperventilate.

“John, dear, you have to calm down. You need to calm down. It won’t do you any good if you start losing it now. Breathe for me, okay? Slowly. In… and out… in… and out. Good. That’s it. Just calm down. You’re going to be alright. I’m here,” Mimi said, guiding his breathing with her hand as she looked her nephew deep in the eye, needing him to focus on her to make sure he wouldn’t faint or anything like it. John tried his best, tried to push the thoughts away, but never managed to for more than a second. He needed Paul.

“P-Paul…” John croaked out, but Mimi shushed him, squeezing his shoulder.

“Just breathe for now. That’s good. Come on, let’s get you upstairs. You need to rest for a moment,” she said and John nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly tired and let his aunt help him up onto his feet. She allowed John to lean against her as she carefully moved John back into the hallways to the stairs, slowly ascending them, before guiding him into the little bedroom she had for him. John let her lay him down and tried to remain calm and breathe as he stared at the wall, trying to get his body to relax. Mimi stayed by his side for a while, simply watching him as John’s body slowly stopped shaking and his breathing slowed. Suddenly, though, the doorbell rang and John’s eyes shot open in shock, wincing as he guessed that had to be his mother.

“It’s okay, John. I’ll be right back.”

“D-don’t… don’t let her take me,” John muttered softly and Mimi blinked down at him a few times, before she nodded.

“I won’t. You’re save here with me, John,” she promised and John forced himself to smile up at her as a thank you. She gave a short nod to say she understood, before disappearing out of the door. John could hear her feet on the stairs as she walked down it and curled up in his bed, trying to breathe slowly like his aunt had told him to do. He was save here. Mimi wouldn’t let her take him. He was save here.

Downstairs, the front door opened and John listened closely as he heard his mother’s voice, asking him if he was here. Mimi told her the truth, but John tried to calm down and relax. Mimi knew what she was doing. She was a clever woman. She knew what she was doing.

“I’m here to take him home,” Julia said, her voice tense and harsh. Mimi simply refused, he voice oddly calm and composed – it was almost scary.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Julia. John is staying here with me.”

“Like hell he is! He’s _my_ son, Mary! You can’t just keep him here.”

“John told me he wanted to stay here. He’s upstairs asleep. If he wants to, he can come home in the morning. He looked awful when he got here. He needs his rest.”

“You have no idea what’s going on! John is coming with me and he’s coming now.”

“Julia-“

“No, Mary! If you won’t get him down, I will do so myself!” Julia said and for a moment it was quiet downstairs. John didn’t like the silence. It was making him even more nervous than hearing them talk. “Mary!”

“Go home, Julia. You’re clearly upset. John’s staying with me for the night. He’s not a child and can make his own choices. Now, turn around and go home before you do something you’ll regret.”

“He’s _my son_!”

“Yes, and _my_ nephew. John came to me. He wants to stay here, so he’s staying here. He’s eighteen, Julia. You can’t force him.”

“You wouldn’t want him here if you knew what he’s been doing. What he _is_.”

“I couldn’t care less what he’s done or what he is. He’s my boy and he can stay here if he wants to.”

“He’s been seeing _men_ , Mary. John’s… John’s…”

“I _know_ , Julia. Like I said: I don’t _care._ Go home and calm down first.” John stared wide-eyed in front of him, not believing his ears. Mimi had known? How? And she was okay with it?! John couldn’t hear anything more from downstairs. He could still hear some voices murmuring things, but it was too soft to make out. Then finally, the door was opened and closed again and the voices were gone. Julia had left. He was save.

          Mimi didn’t come back up until much later, leaving John to rest and calm down. At first it had been difficult, every little sound making him jump with fright, thinking Julia had come back for him. But no one came for him and he was all save and alone. Then, he thought of Paul, wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about him too. Was he still at home? Had he been kicked out? Had Julia called the police on him? Had he left? Would he come for him? Maybe they could run away? Like they had always wanted to. To Scotland or New York? New York would be better. They were save there; they could start over. But Paul didn’t come for him either. Finally, after two hours of constant worrying and over-thinking, John’s eyes fell shut and he slept.

When John awoke again, it was a few minutes before midnight. The little light on his desk was on, giving the room a warm and comforting glow and feel. The short nap hadn’t done much to make him feel better, as he felt even more exhausted and his breathing and heartbeat was still too quick to be healthy, but he did feel calmer.

Footsteps sounded on the landing and John sat up in his bed as he heard a knock on his door and the call of his name. He weakly told her to come in and moved so he could lean with his back against the wall, his body feeling exhausted.

“John? How are you feeling, darling?” Mimi asked as he walked inside and took a seat on the edge of his bed. She studied him with a diligent eye.

“Better? I think? Er… thanks for letting me stay here.”

“You can always stay here if you want to, John.”

“Well… thanks anyway,” he said and Mimi nodded, before the room fell silent again. John shuffled around on the bed a little, trying to make himself a bit more comfortable, but also to just have something to do, feeling awkward sitting there with his aunt, knowing she expected him to give her an explanation. Truthfully, John didn’t feel like giving any. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t quite know what he wanted, however. All he knew was that he wanted Paul. Or at least know what happened to him. But his aunt couldn’t help him with that. No one could. Only his mother, and she was the last person he wanted to see right now. But Mimi deserved an explanation for him turning up at her door the way he was, followed soon by his mother who then started yelling and demanding he’d come home. She only deserved to know what was going on.

“Mimi, I-“’ he reluctantly started, but his aunt swiftly stopped him.

“No, John. I don’t need to know.”

“But-“

“If you don’t want to me, you don’t have to. I only want to know that you’re doing alright, okay? You can tell me in your own time,” she said and John smiled thankfully, looking down at his fingers as he nodded.

“Thanks,” he said and Mimi reached over to squeeze his knee.

“And I want you to go home. To your mother,” she added and John looked up at her in shock at that, shaking his head as he stared at her with wide eyes.

“I’m not going back,” he said, but Mimi wasn’t that easily swayed.

“John. She needs you now,” she insisted, but John refused, scoffing.

“She needs me? Don’t make me laugh! What about me?!”

“John, dear, I get that you’re upset-“

“Damn right, I’m upset!”

“But so is she. She needs you, John. She went through a lot. You should have seen her when she came to get you. She’s not doing good,” Mimi explained, but John shook his head, looking away. “She’s your _mother_.”

“Not my fault,” John mumbled and Mimi sighed.

“John, I get it that you’re upset. But you’re not the only one. She lost someone too, you know. She’s afraid she might lose you, too. She’s all alone right now. She has no one left,” he said, but John didn’t reply to that, refusing to look at his aunt, as he instead focused on one the drawings above his bed. Drawings he had made when he still been young. When he hadn’t needed to deal with stuff like this. Still, his aunt’s words got to him. After all, she was still his mum. His mother who had always supported him and helped him into music. His mother with whom he had such a great time as a kid, and even now he was older. Despite all that had happened, he did still love her. After all, all that had happened wasn’t completely her fault. But then, he remembered her words, the pure anger and disgust in her voice. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with all that if she were to turn those words and that voice to him. Hearing her yell at Paul and Mimi had been worse enough.

“John? What about your sister?”

“I-I can’t, Mimi…” John finally muttered, his voice broken and Mimi squeezed his knee again, catching his attention and eye. The moment their eyes met she offered him an encouraging smile.

“Of course, you can. She still loves you,” she said, but John shook his head.

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Just go home, John. For your mother. For your sister. You can always come back to me if you need to, you know that. You won’t even need a reason, but… just give it a try?” she asked and John thought it over in his head, but he finally nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed and Mimi moved away from him again with a small smile.

“Thank you, John. Now, go get changed and sleep. You both need to calm down and have some rest. You can go back home tomorrow.”

“Will you come with me?” John asked and Mimi nodded.

“If you want me to. Now, do as I told you and sleep. You need it,” she told him and John nodded and moved to stand up and change into the pair of pyjamas he knew lay in his closet to get changed and do as his aunt had told him to. Mimi ran an affectionate hand through his hair, before pressing a quick kiss to his temple and moving to leave the room and go to bed herself. John, however, stopped her before she had stepped through the door.

“How did you know?” he asked, turning around to look at his aunt, who stared at him in confusement, a frown on her forehead. “About me? About… me liking men?” The last came out particularly quiet and he needed to take a deep breath to calm himself, feeling his body tense up as he waited for an answer. His aunt regarded him for a moment, before she smiled.

“I know you, John. I’ve been looking after you since you were three years old. There’s nothing I don’t know about you.” When John looked back with confusement, she added, “There was a boy when you were about six. Your mother never noticed and I don’t think you quite knew what it was you felt for him, but I did.”

“You didn’t mind?” John asked and Mimi shook her head.

“I never minded. You were always my John. My boy. That was just who you were. Who you are. You’ll always be my little boy,” she said, her voice breaking uncharacteristically and John felt his heart race at this sudden confession, not being used to seeing his aunt speak her mind or show affection. Neither said anything more as Mimi turned back around and finally left, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her. John stared at the closed door for a few seconds, before pulling himself together and changing before slipping into his bed to sleep.


	31. Chapter 31

John cycled home by himself that following afternoon. Mimi had offered to come with him for support, as neither had any idea of how Julia might react to John showing up at her door after everything, but John had decided he needed to do this on his own. He couldn’t keep running away from everything like he had done the last time, or hide behind the backs of his friends or aunt. Still, he had been so nervous that eventually Mimi had needed to lock him out of the house to make him leave, which was probably a good idea as John wasn’t certain he’d gone at all if it had been up to him.

His heart was racing in his chest as he took a right and cycled onto the street his house was on. He doubted Paul would be home, but there was still a tiny bit of foolish hope left in him that when he’d ring the doorbell, Paul would open up and everything would turn out to be magically alright. However, he was well aware that there was a bigger chance of finding Elvis sitting his living room, eagerly waiting to meet John with whom he’d then fall hopelessly in love, than having that happen. His hope dropped even more as he saw an empty spot before their door where normally Paul’s car would be parked. Sighing, John cycled up the garden path, got off his bike and put it away, dragging it out as much as he could, before he had to ring the bell. God, he wished he had thought of taking his keys.

It took unbearably long for Julia to open the door. Or at least, that’s how it felt to John. He could feel his hands sweating and he almost forgot how to breathe when the door finally opened and he came face to face with his mother. For a little while, they only looked at each other, neither quite knowing how to act around each other with everything that had happened. Eventually, Julia acknowledged John with a small nod, before she stepped aside to let him in. John forced a smile in return.

The house felt cold and silent as he followed his mother inside. It even looked empty, with Paul’s jacket gone from the coat rack and an empty spot between all the other shoes that were neatly arranged beneath it. But what really got him was the lack of music, having gotten so used to coming home to hear Paul play piano or guitar or sing or even whistle. It had always cheered the air around him, but now he felt cold and awkward, the silence making him uncomfortable.

“Wh-where’s Paul?” John asked, his voice soft and uncertain, afraid how his mother would react to the mention of him.

“He’s gone,” she coldly replied, and with that their short-lived conversation ended. Julia didn’t even look at him as she walked into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the hallway.

Unsure what to do next, John dragged himself upstairs. He could hear his sister’s voice coming softly from her bedroom door, but he didn’t feel like talking to her yet. He walked into his own bedroom, closing the door behind him, before letting his forehead rest against it as he let out a deep sigh. Paul was gone. And although that phrase still sounded odd and surreal in his mind, the pain he felt was awfully real.

          Train stations, Paul had found, were calming places to be at in the middle of the night. It was silent and although rather cold, also soothing, with only the occasional lonesome stranger walking past you who either acknowledged you with a brief nod or simply let you be. It was less dangerous than he had expected it to be, with the only people around him minding their own business. It offered him a place to calm down and think.

After being thrown out by Julia that previous night, Paul had thrown his hastily packed suitcase in the boot of his car, before driving off, deciding he could come back to pick up the rest of his stuff later when things were less heated. He had decided to go back to London and find a place to crash there for a few days until he’d find a place for himself, not wanting to stay in Liverpool anymore. There were too many memories. Too many mistakes. So, he’d driven back into the city and parked his car by Lime Street Station, deciding to pick it up again when he’d come back for his stuff. He wouldn’t need it in London, anyway.

Only, when he had gotten to the station, the last train to London had just left, leaving Paul with no choice but to stay in Liverpool for one night longer. But instead of finding a cheap hotel to stay at for the night, he had found himself a bench to sleep on, not thinking he deserved a proper bed to sleep in. So, he had bought himself a cup of hot tea to drink as waited until most late night travellers had gone, wrapping his arms around the warm cup to keep himself warm.

So, here he was, with nothing to protect himself from the cold mid-night air accepted his leather jacket – which smelled suspiciously of John – and a hot cup of tea. His suitcase, he had pushed under his bench, away from searching eyes. He felt himself slowly relax into the metal bench, the sounds of the wheels of the train rolling over the tracks sounding oddly calming. He tried to come up with a plan, knowing he’d needed one once he got to London. He knew Jane, his ex-fiancée (the first one, that is), wouldn’t take him in. She’d just gotten married herself and had made it clear that she didn’t want to deal any of his troubles any longer. Most people he had known in London he had lost contact with. Except… George. George Martin and he had worked together at the theatre many years back and that had gotten along greatly, despite George being some years older than him. He had been the sound technician and had taught Paul most of what he knew, finding his enthusiasm amusing and rather flattering. Even after Paul had quit, they had remained friends. Surely, he would take Paul in? It was only for a few nights. Then he could call his work once he had gotten there and say he’d quit. Finding an apartment and a job would be more trouble, but surely he could manage. Maybe he could get a dog, too? For company? Yes, Paul liked that idea.

Sighing, he leaned back against the bench and curled up his hands behind his head to rest on as he looked up at the glass and metal construction above him, the midnight stars twinkling behind it. Behind him, the last train departed with a screech, before the station was left in a comforting silence.

He felt incredibly guilty, though, for what he had done. To Julia, but also to himself and John. Julia had been right. He had never really chosen for her. Nor for John. And now he had ruined it. Ruined his last chance of marrying a wonderful lady and having a wonderful family like he had always wanted. And for what? He loved John. He did, but was this worth it? Would he have done the same thing if he had known how it would end. Probably not. Julia was right: if he had chosen for her, he would never have started anything with John in the first place. He would have kept away, but instead he had gone and dug his own grave. He had hurt the woman he loved. He truly was an awful guy and Julia deserved better. John deserved better. Even Jules deserved a better stepdad. What had he been thinking?!

Looking around, he noticed he was almost completely alone. He got his suitcase and pulled out one of his sweaters to use as a pillow. He zipped up his leather coat completely – trying not to notice John’s scent that invaded his nose – laid down his self-fabricated pillow and laid down. He didn’t deserve a proper bed.

            When Paul woke up that following morning, it was by the feeling of something wet and rubbery bumping against his face. He opened frowned in disgust and tried to push the awful thing away and jerked when his hand was met with soft fur instead. Surprised, he opened his eyes and was met with the head of a fluffy sheepdog, who then continued to assault him by giving his face a long, wet lick.

“Ugh… you’ve got to be kidding me,” Paul muttered, his voice thick with sleep, and moved to sit up, reaching out for than animal to pet him or her. The dog happily wagged its tail and started sniffing at him again. Paul laughed as the dog tried to get between his legs.

“Hey! Not there, okay? Where’s your owner, anyway?” Paul said as he crossed his legs, keeping himself well protected from the large dog and it’s sniffing nose. The dog looked up at him and sat down in front of him, allowing him to continue his petting.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. He’s always been a bit too keen on people,” a woman’s voice sounded and Paul looked up at the dog to see a woman coming his way, her cheeks flushed and a dog leash in her hand, the end disconnected. She looked young, about twenty-seven, blonde, smartly dressed with a light brown hat. Her long silky floral scarf swayed after her as he hurried over to them. “He escaped me,” she explained when she was near enough, kneeling down to line her dog back up, as he caught her breath.

“It’s okay. I love dogs. And he’s especially cute,” he replied with a little smile, not wanting her to worry. He knew how dogs could be at times. The woman smiled back at him, raising her eyes to him, which rested briefly on his suitcase.

“Where are you going then?” she asked, running her fingers through the dogs fur as she nodded into the direction of his suitcase.

“London.”

“Oh, you plan to stay for a while, then?” she asked and Paul shrugged, looking down and away from her.

“Yes, my er… my fiancée threw me out. So, I’ve got nowhere to stay. At least back in London I have a few friends and honestly, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he finished with a chuckle, which the young lady joined.

“I’ve had people do that often with me. I guess it’s the dog. Shame about your engagement, though. You know, the train to London doesn’t leave for another twenty minutes. I was thinking, maybe we could get some breakfast together?” she asked, smiling up at him with twinkling eyes. Paul was taken aback by the question, realising where she was going with this. Still, she knew he had just broken up, so surely she wouldn’t actually be coming on to him? But Paul wasn’t certain, and although the young woman was certain attractive and perhaps he would have harmlessly flirted with her some weeks ago – after all it was only breakfast and they’d probably never see each other again – now it felt wrong. He couldn’t. Not right after Julia. After John.

“I’m sorry. I’m actually not that hungry and I really don’t want to miss the next train,” he said politely with an apologetic smile, but the woman only nodded and smiled back.

“Alright, then. Well, good luck with everything and again… I’m sorry about my dog.”

“I told you it was fine. Don’t worry about it,” Paul said and the woman nodded again as she got up onto her feet and turned around to walk away, her sheepdog following on her heel.

“You know,” she said, halting, “if you’re fast, there’s a train leaving on the platform behind you into the direction of London. You only need to change trains once, but it will get you into Kings Cross Station about ten minutes earlier.” Paul jumped up at that, grabbing his suitcase before hurrying down the stairs to go to the platform behind him, shouting a “thank you” over his shoulder. The woman watched him leave with an amused smile on her face, shaking her head.

            The woman had seemed to be right. The train would take him about two thirds of the way to London and he’d only have to change trains once. Because of this, the train was a lot quieter than most trains to London, leaving Paul with his own compartment. Not three minutes after he had sat down, the train rode off and Paul left Liverpool. The moment the train had left the station, Paul felt himself relax and he lit himself a ciggy as he watched the scenery change through the window as he drove through the city and then across the countryside, alongside trees and hills and rivers, past faraway villages, occasionally stopping at quaint stations where new people stepped aboard and sometimes older passengers got out.

As Paul watched the scenery change, he felt his stomach growl and he slightly regretted not taking up to woman’s offer for breakfast. After all, he hadn’t eaten anything yet and they wouldn’t have seen each other again. It had only been a harmless flirtation at the most. But then he remembered John and Julia and he decided that hunger was exactly what he deserved, especially after having actually considered going out for breakfast with a younger woman not twenty-four hours after Julia had kicked him out of the house. He truly was awful.

That did remind him, however, of John. He hadn’t seen the boy at all anymore since they had read on the couch. He had wanted to talk to John before leaving, but John had already left by the time he and Julia had finished arguing. He didn’t doubt that John had heard everything they had said and Paul wished he hadn’t. Julia had said some hurtful things, and although he knew she was just shocked and angry – mostly at him – and was only trying to hurt him as much as possible, John would probably take it personal and think that was really how his mother thought. That she wouldn’t accept him for who he was. Paul doubted that, knowing how much Julia loved John and that she was often much more liberal than she’d sometimes let on. Like John, she could say some things she didn’t mean, just to hurt. She could get to people’s pressure points, and without knowing it she had gotten to John’s.

That things hadn’t gone exactly to plan was an understatement. But then again, John and he had never really had a plan. September 18th, they’d quit. That was their plan. Or had been their plan, he supposed. It had been foolish to think they’d never get caught. He just hoped John was alright now. Or would be eventually. If Paul had known that evening reading on the couch would have been the last time he’d see John, he would have treasured it more. He regretted not having done so.

As the train stopped again at some old train station on the edge of a small town  a long way away from the city of Liverpool and the River Mersey, a place Paul had always called home, he sighed and reached for his suitcase, taking it onto his lap to open. At the top lay Stuart’s drawing. He had managed to quickly snatch it from the coffee table before Julia had dragged him quite physically out of the house. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it, but he had felt the need to take it. Like a reminder. However fucked up that might be, considering. Although Paul knew he had been wrong to start that affair with John, he refused to think he’d ever taken advantage of John, like Julia had said. John had known exactly what he had been getting into – at least as much as Paul had – and had been more than willing, even going as far as convincing Paul to stay with him for as long as possible. It was the thought he clung to. That John had truly loved him. That what they had had, had been real. That had they met under different circumstances, things probably would have turned out quite differently. And perhaps in another universe, things had.

Folding up the drawing, he stuck it in his back pocket to keep close. Then, he got out his notebook, which he hadn’t used for years. He opened it, ripped out two pages and got himself a pen as well. He closed his suitcase, put it back on the overhead rack, closed the notebook, which he lay on the little table by his side, and laid the two pieces of paper on it, using it as a surface to write on. The least he could do was write John a letter. He was probably worried and writing a goodbye letter was the least he could do. He wanted to explain, to let him know what he was going to do and that he was alright, he wanted to say goodbye. He wanted them to have a proper ending. He could post it once he was in London.

          John stared down at the photos in his hands, his lips twisted somewhere between a smile and a trembling pout. The handsome twenty-two-year-old was smiling up at him, pretending to look smug with a pair of glasses on his nose. It was the only photograph he had left of Paul. He had found it behind his bed, probably having fallen down there some nights ago while… John didn’t dare to finish that sentence, even in his head. The others had disappeared, and he figured his mother had thrown them out, not wanting her son to have anything more to do with him now she knew. The fact that his blue panties had vanished too made him nervous. The drawing Stuart had made of him that John had given Paul as a present was gone too, though John didn’t dare ask his mother if she had thrown it out or if Paul had taken it.

It had been four days since he had come home and his mother hadn’t said anything more to him than what was absolutely necessary and she seemed bereft of all her emotions except three: anger, sadness and disgust.  The last was mostly directed at him, while the former two he only caught glimpses of when she was alone. All other times, she seemed emotionless, numb. John felt bad for her, of course. She didn’t deserve this, but didn’t she realise he had also lost someone? Didn’t she see that he had actually _loved_ Paul? Or perhaps, she didn’t want to see, the idea of Paul having loved him back being too hard for her to bear.

Still, his mother didn’t seem to be mad at _him_ , which had been a relief and gave John hope that perhaps his mother wasn’t as disgusted with the fact that he liked men, than that he had liked _Paul_. But being ignored by his mother, felt awful and left John feeling terribly alone. The fact that he still hadn’t heard from Paul at all, didn’t make it any better.

The worst was that he didn’t have anyone to talk to about his pain either. Cynthia and Stuart simply didn’t understand, his sister was too young and his mother had her own troubles and seemed to be willing to burn the house down whenever anyone said anything about Paul. Eric tried, and though he seemed to understand the best of all of them, he was new and John wasn’t comfortable enough with him to fully let his guard down. In truth, the person he really needed right now was the object of his sorrow in the first place. John had never felt so alone. Not even when his uncle George had passed away from a heart attack. Everyone seemed to be leaving him. It wasn’t fair.

A tear dripped onto Paul’s photo and John blinked down at it in surprise, before reaching beneath his glasses to wipe the other tears away. He didn’t allow himself to cry. It wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t bring Paul back. It wouldn’t make him any less lonely and it wouldn’t make his mother come back to him.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs alerted John and right away, he stuffed Paul’s photo under his pillow again. He sighed when his door opened and Cynthia stood behind it, a worried look on her face. John beckoned her inside and asked her to close the door behind her, which she did. John picked up Paul’s photo again and straightened it out, the edges having been folded from the hasty way he had put it away. The bed dipped beside him as Cynthia sat down and John could feel her eyes on him.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently. John merely shrugged. “Mr Robins asked where you were today. I told him you were sick.”

“Thanks, Cyn.”

“You know that sulking won’t do any good, right?”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know… go out? Drink? Find a girl to shag? Beat someone up? Fuck John, do whatever it is you lads do to get over your broken hearts!”

“It’s not that easy, Cyn.”

“Isn’t it?” Cynthia sighed in defeat when John didn’t answer her. For a moment it was silent between them and John wished she would just leave. She wouldn’t, however, and John had just been about to get up and leave himself, when she cleared her throat, catching his attention.

“I have something for you,” she said, and John looked up with a curious frown, not being able to help him. “It came to my house instead of yours. Seems like he hasn’t forgotten about you yet.”

She reached down into her little purse and got out an envelope. On one side was Cynthia’s address, but with his name above it. The handwriting, however, told him everything he needed to know, having seen to too many times for him not to recognise right away. It was Paul’s. Paul had written him a letter. He eagerly grasped it from his friend’s fingers and started to tear it open right away, wanting to see what it read. As soon as he got the letter out, he sat back onto the back and folded up his legs to curl up as he read the letter in Paul’s neat, yet slightly shaky hand.

  _John,_

_I don’t know how many times I’ve rewritten this letter, but I want you to know that I’m okay. I also want you to know that I’m sorry. I should never have allowed this thing between us to get as far as it did. We were foolish and stupid, and I should have known better. But instead, I ruined everything and I am sorry for that. It pains me to think what could have been if we hadn’t started this thing between us. Both you and Julia deserve so much better than me and I am sorry for everything I’ve done to you and your mother._

_You asked me some months ago if I ever regretted starting this affair with you and at the time I told you I would do it all over again if I had the choice. But right now, I am not so sure. I love you, John, I do. And I loved our time together, but it wasn’t meant to be John. We weren’t supposed to be together. We went into this head first and although it brought us many happy moments, it brought many painful ones as well, and eventually it ripped everything apart. Not only for us, but for other people, too. Julia, your sister… I don’t regret loving you, but I regret acting on it and I am sorry._

_Right now, I’m on my way to London. I still have some old friends living there and I hope to find someone who will let me stay with them until I’ve managed to find my own place and get a new job. I’m going to start over, John. Find a new life to lead, though I think it will be a lonely one. But don’t feel bad for me. I’ve felt love and lived it – thank you for that – and I’ve had my fair share of it. I never loved anyone the way I loved you and I don’t I ever will find someone who will mean the same to me as you did. But love means letting go, and I want you to be happy. You cannot be happy with me, John. We both know that and it is foolish to continue to lie to ourselves. You deserve someone better._

_I don’t think I could ever love anyone the way I loved you, and if it’s not like that, then I don’t want it, because I know now how love can be._

_John, I love you. And I am sorry for the way things went between us and I wished it had been different, but for some reason it wasn’t meant to be. If you hadn’t realised it yet, this is my saying goodbye. What we had is now over, as it should have been for a long time. Please, don’t try to contact me or come visit me. Don’t make this any harder than it is and think back of all the happy times we shared together. Find someone else and make new ones just like those. Be happy. Live your life. Don’t worry about me._

_I’m okay and I’m going to start over – become a better person. Please, don’t come after me. You deserve someone better, someone who can make you happy. That person isn’t me. Please, John. Don’t do anything foolish and stay at home. With your mother. With your sister. Be happy._

_I love you._

_Paul._

_Ps. I sent this to Cynthia because I didn’t want your mother to find this letter and keep it from you._

_Ps. Please reply to let me know you’re okay. Send it to the address on the back of this letter. It is the old theatre where I used to work._

_Ps. Tell Jules I will miss her and that she can be anything she’d like. Even a pilot if she wants to. Tell her not to care what anyone thinks and do her own thing. Especially men. She’s too great to care._

_Ps. Seriously, John. Don’t come after me. It’s not worth it._

* * *

 

John looked around himself absentmindedly as he tried his best to listen to what the lad on the other end of the line was telling him, taking in the overall picture and noticing how empty it was now that all of Paul’s stuff was gone. It had happened a little over a week ago, when he had still been in Hamburg with Stuart, helping him move, but it still struck him every day how terribly empty the house felt. It wasn’t even that much stuff had gone, only a few pictures, books, records, one armchair, his teacher’s bag, some little useless and sentimental things from holidays and gifts from family and friends, his guitars, and the radio. John had seen how empty his mother’s closet now looked without Paul’s clothes, half of it now empty. But what always struck him the most was the piano. There now was a large empty space in the living room, which his mother had failed to fill with a large vase of flowers, as it made the empty space even more apparent. He wished he could play it again, missing the feel of the cool ivory against his fingertips and the purity of its sound, but even more he wished he could hear Paul play it again. If only. But he was gone.

“John? Are you still listening to me?” Stuart’s voice sounded, bringing him back to the conversation they’d been having. He probably should listen; calling all the way from Germany couldn’t be cheap, after all. Besides, he was his friend. He wanted to listen. If only his mind would realise it too.

“Yes, of course I am,” John muttered in reply as he fidgeted with the telephone cord.

“Oh, really? Then what was I just talking about?”

“Erm… about… me going home so soon?” John tried, recalling Stuart mentioning something about his stay in Hamburg. Stuart, however, snorted at his answer.

“Nice try. I was actually ranting about my roommate.”

“Oh right! Klaus, wasn’t it? He seemed alright to me,” he said, turning towards the wall so he didn’t have to see the too empty room anymore.  

“Oh, he is. That’s the problem. He’s great. Only so is his art, which means competition, and he seems more than a little friendly with that girl I told you about, which is troubling for obvious reasons. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I really do wish you’d stayed longer, you know. I mean, you were supposed to stay for two weeks!” John fought the urge to groan, wishing he hadn’t even brought it up.

“I know, Stu. But you know why I couldn’t stay. With all that happened with Julia and Paul… I couldn’t stay away from home too long. You know how she can get.”

“How you can get, you mean?”

“Whatever.”

“And you’re sure that’s all?”

“Of course!”

“Because not too many months ago, you wouldn’t have given a damn about your mother in this situation and not been so forgiving towards her.”

  “Well, she’s my Mum. I love her. And besides, it’s not really her fault, is it?”

“Well, it seems that Paul had some good influence on you after all, John,” Stuart said, but when John only snorted in reply he added, “How are things between you and Julia, then? Still as bad as they were when you came here?”

“No. Well… it’s still awkward, but we talk, which I better than nothing. It’s just been hard. For both of us. I don’t blame her. Not only does she have to deal with the fact that I like men, I also fucked her boyfriend!” John said with a pathetic chuckle, trying to cover up. Stuart, however, saw right through it, refusing to laugh with him.

“It’s okay that you miss him, you know,” he said, his voice soft and careful, as if he was afraid John would hang up on him if he said the wrong thing. And maybe a few months ago, he would have, refusing to let people see that side of him. Maybe Stuart was right. Maybe Paul had been more of a good influence on him than he had thought.

Stuart was certainly right about one thing, though. He did miss Paul. Terribly. Not a day went by where he didn’t think of Paul at least once, and at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t help but think back at those nights when Paul would come to his door and they’d be together, alone, just the two of them. Mostly, he thought back of those moments when they’d simply lie together in bed, talking in hushed voices, whispering sweet nothings together until he’d fall asleep with his head buried in Paul’s chest and Paul’s arm firmly around him. And sometimes, he was certain he could hear stumbling on the landing, but Paul never came.

He had thought about going after Paul after he had received that letter. He had considered taking the first train to London and go look for him. He had an address, and although it wasn’t Paul’s, he knew that if Paul wanted him to send a letter to that address, he was going to have to pick it up there, too. It would be a good place to start, at least. But he hadn’t. Not because of Paul and his “you deserve better” bullshit, because that was just a  load of crap and he knew that Paul knew it too, but because he couldn’t. Because it was foolish. Because Paul would surely turn away from him, always wanting to do what was right. Because Mimi was right and Julia needed him now. He couldn’t leave her. Not with how terrible she had been doing. They all needed some time.

“John? Are you okay?” Stuart’s voice sounded and John cleared his throat, before nodding.

“Yeah…. Yeah, I’m fine. Of course I’m fine,” he said quickly.

“If you want to talk-“

“No. Just… I’m fine, alright? Now, tell me about that German girl you’ve been chasing. How’s that going, eh? Any luck?”

“John-“

“Stu. Tell me about the girl,” John said firmly, making it more than clear to his friend that he didn’t feel like _talking_. Even if he wasn’t “alright”. Stuart sighed, but gave in.

“I’m getting there. But if you had actually listened to me, you’d know that every time we hang out together, that Klaus guy is there too. As well as this other guy. Jürgen. She seems to have a lot of guy friends.”

“What does he do, then?”

“Photography mostly. Like Astrid. I’ll get her, though. Eventually,” Stuart said, sounding more doubtful than confident, which made John chuckle.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said and Stuart huffed in frustration.

“Anyway. Enough about my new troubled lifestyle as an artist. What are _you_ going to do?” he asked and John sighed at the question, running a hand through his hair, as he glanced around the room to check he was alone.

“Really, I need to get away from here. Find my own place or something. I love my Mum, but if she continues to treat me like this, I can’t stay.”

“So, what’s your plan?”

“Well, I can’t leave now. Not while we’re all still a mess and I can’t leave Jules, but… I want to go to art school. Do something with myself. I’m afraid Mimi might force me into the army or to become a sailor if I don’t. So, I’m going to work hard this coming school year, finish it and get into art school. I mean, how hard can it be? My art is the only reason I’m still in school in the first place. Might as well use it to my advantage, right?” John asked, scratching the back of his head nervously, not believing his own words. But Paul had always believed he could do it. So why not try?

“Wow John, you seem to really have changed,” Stuart said, sounding impressed.

“Oh! Fuck off,” John said back, blushing at his friend’s words.

“Speaking of fucking off, I promised Astrid to meet her and the other two for drinks and if I don’t go take a shower now, I’ll be late, so…”

“Fucking shower then, you pig. Call me once you made any progress with her, yeah?”

“Sure. See ya, John!” and with that, he hung up.

          Slowly, John made his way back upstairs to his room, not wanting to run into his mother and having to deal with her. He hadn’t lied to Stuart; they were talking again and as long as they talked about casual stuff, it was all fine, which John hoped was a sign that maybe his mother wasn’t as upset about him liking men, but more about him liking Paul. But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk to her. He just needed to be alone with his thoughts for a while.

The shoe box still lay on his bed where he had left it when his mother had called him down to talk to Stuart. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be snooping around his room anymore, but John still felt stupid for not having put it away first. He couldn’t be too careful. Sighing, he closed his bedroom door behind him, walked over to the bed where he sat down, and pulled the shoe box closer to him. It was probably stupid and sentimental of him to be keeping a shoe box with all the stuff he still had of Paul’s in there. The collection was only small, consisting of the self-engraved plectrum, the book of Shakespeare’s sonnets, the photo of Paul when he had been young, the note he had left John after Paul had admitted his feelings to him, his last letter and a pair of blue panties.

He had managed to find them again, and thankfully his mother had not. He had been so relieved when he had found them all the way at the back of the closet, having fallen down behind the shelf where he had originally hid it. He wasn’t sure he could have explained why he had a pair of sexy blue panties in his closet. Especially now his mother knew he wasn’t into girls.

He took out the photo, shoved the shoe box safely under his bed, and shuffled further up the bed, sitting with his legs folded against the wall as he studied the photograph. He was so glad his mother had failed to take all of them, and though he knew he wasn’t going to help himself by staring at Paul’s photo every day, he couldn’t help himself. One day he was going to put the photo down and never look at it again, but that day hadn’t come yet. In his mind, John kind of hoped that Paul had taken Stuart’s drawing, and he was looking at that the same way as he was looking at Paul’s photo, but he probably would never know.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, making John jump in fright. Quickly, on instinct, John shoved the photo under his pillow, not wanting his mother to see he had it, and snapped his head to see who was at his door. He sighed in relieve when the door opened and Eric walked into his room, looking slightly amused at the look of shock on his friend’s face.

“You okay there, John?” he asked with a chuckle. John rolled his eyes at the question and slowly took the photo from beneath his pillow again, huffing as he saw the edges were now wrinkled and he carefully tried smoothing them.

“Piss off and close the door, would you?” he told Eric, who nodded and did as John asked, before coming to sit down next to him, leaning closer to see what John was looking at. When he saw, he sighed.

“John-“ he started, but John interrupted him.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking cripple you,” he threatened, but Eric seemed unfazed. Instead, he leaned down and took the shoe box from underneath the bed. John knew he shouldn’t have told him where he hid it.

“Put the photo away, John. It’s not doing you any good,” Eric said and John reluctantly did as he was asked, knowing Eric wouldn’t take a no for an answer with this. Eric patted him on the shoulder, making John feel slightly like a puppy who had just performed a trick.

“Wait? Panties? You’re joking,” Eric said, laughing as he studied the contents of the shoe box. John rolled his eyes in annoyance and quickly snatched the box back.

“It’s not just some kinky thing, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” Eric asked, still laughing.

“No. It’s about trust. Acceptance. He did it because I wanted it. That he liked it was only a coincidence. He did a lot for me,” John explained with a sigh, looking down at the flimsy bit of material. Eric hummed in understanding.

“That’s… sweet. In a weird way.”

“Yeah, well… are you still going to tell me what you’re doing here or not? I don’t really feel like talking about this,” John asked, sliding the box under his bed again.

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d might say that,” Eric said, making John frown as he turned to look at his friend. “I’m going to take you out of the house!” Eric added, clasping his hands together in enthusiasm, but John only stared at him, before scoffing and moving to lie down on the bed. Before, he could, though, Eric had clasped his wrist, pulling him back up in his sitting position.

“Come on, Eric. I don’t want to go out,” John pleaded, trying in vain to pull his wrist free, but Eric’s grip on him was too strong. He quickly made a mental note to himself to not get any more friends who were stronger than him. It was rather annoying.

“I don’t care what you want,” Eric said, wrapping an arm around John’s shoulder and pulling him close. John tried to wiggle free, but again Eric’s hold was too strong, leaving John with no other option but to listen to him.

“We-“ Eric continued, “-are going to the cavern, listen to some good music, and have a great time. You need to stop hiding away in your memories, John.” He nodded into the direction of the shoe box and John whined, knowing Eric was right but not really caring. So what if he just wanted to stay at home and feel sorry for himself. Plenty of people did that, so why not him for once?

“Do I have to?” John asked, looking his friend pleadingly in the eye, but Eric seemed set on going, nodding before standing up and taking John by his arm to pull him up with him.

“Yes, you do. I promise, we’ll have a good time,” Eric tried, and finally John gave in with a sigh, realising that resistance was futile.

“Ugh, fine. But if I hate it, we’re going back home,” John said and Eric nodded and crossed his heart and John couldn’t help but laugh. Oh dear, he had really made a mistake in making Eric his friend, hadn’t he?

          It was busy as usual at The Cavern, seeing as it were still the holidays, but he and Eric had still managed to secure themselves a seat. The music that evening was good, jazz music, rather than the occasional skiffle they preferred, but neither John nor Eric minded. Eric had bought both of them a pint and they just enjoyed the music as they talked in-between numbers, not wanting to have to shout over the music too much. They mostly talked about John’s short time in Hamburg and laughed heartedly at the expense of Stuart’s failed attempts to court this Astrid girl he had met. All in all, they had quite a good time and John even forgot about Paul and for the first time in about two and a half months he was laughing genuinely again. He even found himself agreeing to dance with a bold girl who had come up to him.

The alcohol that burned in his throat made his knees weak as he tried to remain on his feet while he danced with the girl. She laughed at his clumsiness and took him by the hand, holding him closer as she guided his movements. John flushed at their sudden closeness and opened his mouth to say something, to make clear that he wasn’t interested in her that way, but he didn’t have to.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, alright? I’m only looking to have some fun,” she said and John stared at her for a moment, before nodding, chuckling to himself.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said in return and when she looked slightly taken-aback, he added, “I had a bad breakup. I er… I’m not looking for anyone, so… you’re alright with me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a small smile. John shook his head in return.

“It’s okay. I had seen it coming.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” the girl said and John nodded, feeling a lump catching in his throat, making him look away from the girl, who squeezed his hand, letting him know it was okay, before pulling him even closer to her, continuing their dance wordlessly. As the song ended, they slowly pulled away, saying an awkward goodbye, before she turned around to walk away. But after the first step she turned back, looking at John with calculating eyes, before she stepped closer and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

“Good luck with your boyfriend,” she said and John’s eyes went wide at that, pulling away from her in shock. But the girl only smiled at him and gave him a reassuring nod that put John at ease, before turning her back on him again and walking away, disappearing the mass of people towards the bar. John stood there for a while, wondering how she could have known, before he slowly started to make his way back to Eric, who was still sitting at the same table he had left him.

“John? You okay?” Eric asked once had was at their table, and John looked up at him and nodded, before he realised there was another man at their table. He had raven black hair, blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, making him look handsome.

“I’m fine,” he told Eric, as he slowly took his seat, keeping his eyes onto the strange man, who had now turned his blue eyes on him. They were light, almost grey. His pink lips were pouty, with an almost perfect cupid bow. They reminded him of Paul. Paul.

“John, this is Alex. Alex this is John, the guy I told you about,” Eric said, introducing them to each other. Alex offered John his hand and John shook it, as he glanced up at Eric with a doubtful look.

“Told him about?” he asked and Eric looked at a loss for words for a moment, which told John all he needed to know. “You don’t mean-“

“Max works at the docks, don’t you, Max?” Eric quickly said, interrupting John. Max looked from the one to the other, trying to figure out what was going on between them, but when Eric shot him a penetrative stare, he quickly opened his mouth to stay something.

“Y-yes, I do. I er… I’m a bartender, actually. Ringo worked with me for a short while actually. It’s er… how I know Eric.”

“Is it?” John asked, still staring at Eric, who looked back at him with pleading eyes, as if saying: “please just give this a try”. But John didn’t want to give it a try. Was that why Eric had brought him here? To set him up with some guy?

“Y-yes… he told me about you, too,” Max said, and John sighed as he finally turned his eyes away from Eric and focused them onto Max.

“Max,” he started, taking a deep breath. Max was actually rather handsome and if things had been different he wouldn’t have minded to get to know him better, but those lips… they reminded him of Paul too much, and really, he didn’t feel like going back into dating already. He knew Eric had meant well, but he could have at least asked him! “You seem like a nice guy and all, and I’m sure Eric meant well bringing you here, but-“

“John!” Eric hissed at him, kicking his shin underneath the table, but John only kicked back, not changing his mind about this.

“-I can’t do this now,” he finished.

“Oh, right…” Max said with a sigh, sitting back in his chair for a moment as he nodded, letting it all sink in for a second, before looking back up at John with a friendly smile on his face. “I-I get it. It’s fine.”

“It’s just, I’ve been-“

“No, I get it, John. It’s fine. Ringo told me. If you er… want to meet up some other time, just ask Ringo, okay? I er… I’d still like to get to know you, if you’d let me. Once you’re ready,“ he said and John smiled at that, thankful that this Max didn’t make it any more awkward than it had to be. He did seem like a nice guy.

“I will,” he said, and with that Max got up, said goodbye and left. As soon as he was out of ear shot, John leaned closer to Eric, trying his hardest not to smack him.

“Why does every single one of my friends try to set me up with people!” he hissed and Eric looked up at him like that, giving him a death glare.

“You could have at least given him a shot! He’s a nice guy!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt he is, but really, I don’t feel like hooking up with anyone for a while, okay? Besides, don’t you think I can get my own dates?”

“Of course not! I was only trying to help you. You’ve been moaning over Paul long enough, John. It’s time to move on.”

“And what if I don’t want to move on?” John snapped and Eric stared at him at that, not knowing what to say. John sighed, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Listen. I… I’m not ready yet, okay? I… I loved Paul. I really loved him, and I know that is stupid, but I did and I can’t just simply forget about him and move on, okay? I need time. Because I fucking loved him and I still do.”

“But you two are over,” Eric said and John snickered at that, shaking his head.

“I know, Eric. Believe me, I do, but that doesn’t mean I can just simply move on. Just… not yet, okay?” he asked and Eric stayed quiet for a while, but eventually he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, nodding as if he was still trying to convince himself that he was in face agreeing. “Okay. If you need more time, then… that’s fine. But you need to stop hiding away in your room, refusing to do anything, okay? You need to get over him and start living again.” John nodded, sighing, knowing that Eric was right.

“You’re right,” he admitted, surprising even himself, “but I can start living again without a boyfriend. I’m just not ready for that yet.”

“Alright.”

“And when I am ready, I don’t need you or Cyn or Stu or even Ringo to find me a date, okay?” John asked and Eric nodded again.

“Alright. If you want to do it yourself, you can do it yourself. But… don’t forget you have friends. We want to help you, John, and sometimes you need help.”

“And if I do, I’ll ask for it,” John promised. Eric gave him one last hard stare, before he sighed and gave in.

“Then, I’m sorry for forcing this on you. I should have asked. Do you er… want to go home?” he asked, already sitting up to get his stuff, but John shook his head, picking up his half empty pint and taking a sip.

“No,” he said, causing Eric to fall back into his seat, surprised. “I do want to thank you for forcing me out of the house. I er… I needed that. And just because I won’t be getting laid, doesn’t mean that we can’t have a good time, right?” he asked and Eric stared at him a while longer, but chuckling, picking up his drink as well.

“Alright, then,” he said, “let’s have fun.”

“A boy’s night out. No boys allowed,” John said with a wink and Eric laughed at that, shaking his head.

“You know that doesn’t quite work, right?” he asked, still laughing, but John only shrugged and gently clinked his glass against Eric’s for a toast.

“I don’t care,” he said with a wink, gulping down the rest of his beer, before getting up to get them both more, wanting to enjoy himself to the fullest, before he’d fall back into a drunken spiral of disappear for having lost Paul, which he knew was inevitable. Fun first, he decided, crying later. Maybe he could pass out before that.


	32. Chapter 32

John watched the shadows on the wall as he lay restless in bed, creating animals shadows with his hand, using the silvery moonlight that shone in through his bedroom window. It was long past midnight, and although John had been lying in bed for over three hours, he still hadn’t slept a wink.  He had been tired all day, but now he was so far past the point of exhaustion that sleep seemed impossible. The fact that there was little to do at night didn’t help much, the boredom making him feel frustrated, and thus even less likely to fall asleep. He had tried everything: reading, writing, doodling, counting up to 271 fucking sheep, simply lying down and not moving, imagining his “happy place”, humming songs… he had even masturbated, but it hadn’t done anything. The worst thing was that he had school in the morning and he was going to be exhausted. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

Truth was, he knew why he couldn’t sleep. Today would have been the day. September 18th. His mother and Paul should have gotten married, but instead the day had proved to be dull and uneventful as usual. No one had even remembered. Only Stuart had managed to call him from Hamburg to ask how he was doing, but John had quickly guided the conversation to another topic, not feeling like talking about it. It wasn’t even that he really missed Paul or felt truly that miserable about him not being here. It was the reminder that if Julia hadn’t walked in on them, they would still have been together until today and things would have ended more peacefully. He and Julia would have gotten married and John would still have been able to see him. He would have felt better about it, knowing that Paul was happy with his mother. Now he didn’t. He hadn’t heard anything after Paul had picked up his stuff however many weeks ago, and even then he hadn’t been able to talk to him, seeing as he had been in Hamburg. He had only heard that he was living in London and had found himself a job and a cheap apartment. But whether he was happy? He hoped so.  

He couldn’t help but wonder what could have been, if things had ended differently, and that’s what kept him awake. He wondered if Paul was thinking about it too, or if he had already forgotten about it. About him.  

With a sigh, John rolled onto his other side, pulling the blankets all the way up to his chin as he buried his nose in his pillow and closed his eyes, hoping that this time he would drift off to sleep. He waited and waited, forgetting how to breathe because he was so focused on falling asleep, but he couldn’t. He let out an exasperated sigh as he threw the blankets off him again and rolled over onto his stomach, shooting daggers at the ceiling with his eyes.

Life wasn’t bad, though, he had to admit. Overall, it was fine. School had started again, giving him enough distraction and something to worry about. He wasn’t even doing bad in it, now he didn’t have someone to distract him or a band to invest time in. He had plenty of time to do his homework, organise his notes, read all the required material and study for his tests. He had never done this well in school before, and even Mimi was proud of him, giving him a new mouth organ with a neck holder, so he could play it while playing guitar. So next to school, he was trying to recall the lessons his uncle had giving him before he had died, and bit by bit he started to learn. Other moments, he often spend either with his sister, or he went out with friends. Stuart and him called at least twice every weekend and thus John’s life started to look brighter. Dating was still something he didn’t want to delve into just yet, so he had to make do with his hand, but even that he didn’t mind. Everything else kept him busy enough.

Still, there was something not quite right. John could feel him when he had a moment to himself, so he tried not to have many of those. The shoe box still lay under his bed, and John made sure it was there every morning when he got up and every evening before he went to bed, but he hadn’t taken it out in a while. Looking at that stuff still hurt, and John preferred not to feel.

But it were nights like these, when he couldn’t sleep, that he could practically _feel_ the presence of the box under his bed, calling his name and asking him to look. But John refused, had done so every time. Once, he had been weak and pulled out the box and put it in his lap. His hands had hovered over the lid, and he had lifted it up just an inch. He had seen a flash of Paul’s picture smiling up at him, before he had slammed the box close again and thrown it under his bed, not looking at it for about three days and only checking if it was still there by feeling for it with his hands, pulling them away as soon as his fingertips brushed the carton.

Now it was calling for him again, begging him to just have a little look, but John refused and tried to create some new animal shapes, but his imagination failed him. Finally, he had enough and jumped up from his bed, pulling on a a pair of socks and sweater over his sleeping shirt, before he sneaked out of his room. He sighed in relief when he closed the door behind him, blocking out the calling of the shoe box. Yes, he was going absolutely crazy.

Soundlessly, he shuffled across the landing and down the stairs. He tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to accidentally wake up his mother or sister. He avoided the steps he knew that creaked and soon he stood at the bottom of the stairs with everyone still fast asleep. He brushed a lock of his hair out of his face and made his way to the kitchen, figuring a nice cup of tea might help him fall asleep. When he reached the door, however, he could see light coming from underneath it. Frowning, John slowly pulled the door open and glanced inside to see his mother sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at a cup of tea that she was holding in her hands.

“Julia?” Julia looked up at him at the call of her name. Her eyes were red and swollen, making it more than clear she had been crying not that long ago. John only now saw she was also holding a crumpled up paper towel in her hand.

“John? What are you doing up so late?” she asked in a soft, crackling voice. John smiled back at her with a shrug, before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Nothing. Couldn’t sleep,” he explained, leaning with his back against the door. Julia nodded in understanding and glanced back down at her tea.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Are you okay?” John asked, but Julia nodded.

“Fine. There er… there’s still some tea in the kettle if you’d like some,” she offered and John nodded as he walked over to the stove. He didn’t want to pressure her, thinking it better if Julia were to tell him what was wrong in her own time, if she would want to. He poured himself a cup as well, and gently stirred in the milk, before sitting down opposite his mother. Neither of them had said a word while he had made his tea, and even now his mother was still staring down at her tea, not saying anything.

“Your tea’s going to get cold,” John warned, unsure what he could do or say to her.

“Thanks,” Julia replied and blinked a few times, before lifting up her mug to take a sip. John followed her example, blowing gently first to cool the hot liquid, not wanting to burn his tongue. They sat in silence for a while, neither of them saying anything, Julia staring down at her tea, while John studied his mother, thinking of something to say. In the end, it was Julia who spoke first.

“I know you miss him,” she said as she finally glanced up at her son. John cocked his head questioningly to the side. “Paul,” she clarified. John’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ in understanding, unsure how to reply to that. They had never even mentioned Paul since that dreadful day back in June, at least not during normal conversation, and John wasn’t sure how to speak about him with his mother. It felt kind of _wrong_ to.

“You do, don’t you?” Julia asked, and John gave a slow nod in reply as he kept his eyes on his mother. He wondered where she was going with this. Her eyes snapped up to his, looking him directly in the eye. John felt the urge to look away from her stare, but didn’t. Instead, he took another sip of tea, and looked back at his mother as she studied him, her gaze intense. Finally, a small smile pulled at the corners of her lips, making John frown.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” she asked and John blinked up at her. She simply waited for him to answer, though, keeping her eyes on him as she waited.

“I-I did… I _do_ ,” John admitted, his voice wavering as his cheeks heated up and grew a light pink. To his surprise, Julia chuckled in return, finally averting her eyes in favour of drinking more of her tea.

“He had us both pretty good, huh?” she muttered.

“It wasn’t his fault, you know.”

“Hmm.”

“He felt guilty about it,” John said, sounding more defensive than he would have liked, but his mother didn’t seem too bothered by it. Instead, she only looked up at him, a blank expression in her eyes. “Because of you. He… he truly loved you and… you have no idea how many times we’ve sat down because he wanted to stop. Because he felt it was wrong and unfair. To you, to me, to himself. If I hadn’t-“

“John,” his mother interrupted him, “I know. It’s okay. I know.” John nodded, before clearing his throat. His mother offered him a small forced smile, before finishing her tea with a sigh and running a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. It remained quiet for a while again. This time it was more comfortable, even if neither knew what to say or do next. John tried finishing his tea, but it was still too hot to drink quickly. When he had finally finished it and swallowed the last drop, he pushed his chair back to get up, but his mother stopped him.

“John,” she said, her voice uncertain, which caught his attention and made him sit back down, “I… just so you know… I- I don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind what?”

“You. Or _about_ you. That you… like men. I don’t mind it.” John stared at his mother, his mouth opening briefly before closing again, being at a loss of words. He hadn’t expected this. At least, not for her to say it out loud. Not this “quickly” after the whole ordeal with Paul.

“Well… thank you?” he said and Julia sighed as she sat up a bit straighter.

“It’s just… I just got so angry when I saw you… you and… and Paul. And… I just hadn’t expected it and then I saw it and with Paul and you looked so happy. _He_ looked so happy. I didn’t know how to deal with that. So, what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry if I unintentionally hurt you or made you think I wouldn’t love you anymore, because I do. You’re my son. I guess I just wish you had liked someone else.” John chuckled at that last.

“I’ve thought the same thing too, about you and Paul,” he admitted and Julia smiled at him, genuinely.

“Seems like we’re more alike than we thought.”

“But we are alike,” John said and Julia nodded at that as she chuckled.

“Anyway, John,” she said after a second or two, her laughter dying off, “I guess I just want you to know that when you find someone and you want to bring him home someday, you can. I’d be happy to meet him.” John smiled back at his mother, feeling relieved to hear those words from his mother’s mouth and nodded.

“Thanks, Mum,” he said and Julia reached out for him, grasping his hands and pulling him from his seat and to her for a hug. John let her, stumbling forwards until he stood before his mother, where he bent down to hug her. He kissed her cheek in the process.

“I love you,” he told her, closing his eyes to savour the moment. .

“I love you, too,” she said, pulling away to kiss John on the forehead. “Now, off to bed with you. You have school in the morning, remember?” John nodded and gave her one last firm hug, before pulling away. He grabbed his mug and put it in the sink, before turning around to walk into the direction of the hallway.

“Thanks, Mum. I am glad we could talk,” he said, but Julia waved it away.

“It’s nothing,” she said,” now, bed.” John did a fake salute, before he marched out of the kitchen, making his mother laugh, before he closed the door behind him and went back upstairs. His legs were trembling from the lack of sleep and he yawned as he stepped into his own bedroom. As soon as he was lying back down, he fell asleep, peaceful and quiet.

            The following morning, John wasn’t half as exhausted as he had imagined he’d be. He could feel he hadn’t slept as well as he normally did, but he had felt worse. Probably, because this time, the lack of sleep wasn’t combined with a terrible hangover that he needed to try to conceal. He sat silently at the breakfast table, eating his cereal while he had his nose buried in the newspaper, pretending to read it so people would leave him alone. He always was cranky in the mornings. Especially when he hadn’t slept well.

His sister was sitting opposite him and he could feel her gaze on him, studying him while she ate her breakfast and drank her orange juice. Her eyes occasionally went to the clock, checking it every so often to make sure they wouldn’t be late. John didn’t blame her. Since Paul had left, he had been taking Jules to school when his mother couldn’t, and she had been late more often in those few weeks than she had been in the whole of last year. It wasn’t that he didn’t try or didn’t care… it was just difficult as punctuality just wasn’t his thing, as many of his teachers would confirm.

“John? It’s already-“ Jules started, but John quickly interrupted her.

“I know. We still have time.”

“Yes, but if I’m not on time today, I’ll get detention,” Jules explained, and John sighed, keeping his eyes firmly onto the paper.

“If you’re late and they want to ground you, they have to talk to me first, okay? You’ll be fine. Now, finish your food.”

“But John-“

“Food!” He could see his sister pout at him from the corner of his eye, but he chose the ignore it. When she was about to start complaining again, Julia walked into the kitchen. She looked a mess, with her clothes rumpled and her hair fuzzy. She had dark circles under his eyes and her cheeks were pale, which made John wonder how long she had stayed up after he had gone to bed. If she had gone to bed at all. She greeted them with a hazy “good morning” and a quick peck on the cheek, as she rushed about chaotically to get herself some breakfast too.

“Mum, are you alright?” John asked, finally looking up from the newspaper.

“Hmm?” Julia asked, not even bothering to turn her head to look at him as she made herself some buttered toast.

“He asked if you were okay,” Jules answered for him.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m good. Just… haven’t slept well. Listen, John, I’ll be home late today. I have made plans with Mimi to go out for tea and spend some time together to talk, you know, and I don’t know when I’ll be home. Could you pick Jules up this afternoon?”

“I can take the bus myself!” Jules objected, but both her brother and her mother ignored her.

“Sure, I guess. I mean, I have the afternoon off, so I’ll go home first and pick her up later. Jules, what time are you done?” John asked, grinning as he watched his sister fold her arms over her chest with the most adorable pout.

“Half past four. I promised Clive to stay behind a bit to help with this project for school,” she answered, and John nodded.

“Oh lovely. I’ll be back for dinner, so you won’t have to do anything about that, John. Erm… do I have everything? Keys, money, sunglasses… Okay, well… I’m going to get some shopping and I’ll go to Mimi straight after. Have fun at school you two!” Julia called and picked up her pieces of toast, before rushing to give the two of them a kiss on the head as a goodbye. She left without another word. John glanced quickly at the clock and noticed they had to leave as well.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you at school on time, then,” he said and right away Jules jumped up to put on her coat and shoes. John smiled as he watched her go.

            The sun shone brightly and warmed up this face, as John made his way home from the bus stop. He had his schoolbag thrown over his shoulder and had unbuttoned his coat because of the unusual warmth for September. A light breeze blew through his hair, keeping him cool. For once, John felt relaxed and somewhat happy.

School had gone fine. Nothing special had happened, except that he had now caught someone trying to copy off _him_ , which had made John realise just how well he was doing in school and it had made him feel strangely flattered. Of course, that hadn’t been enough to spare the kid, and after class John had made sure he’d never copy of him again by slamming the kid against the wall a few times and threatening to do whatever to him. John couldn’t remember what he had said. He always just said whatever came to mind, as he rarely had to go through with it. People were smarter than that.

Paul would have been proud of him.

The thought stuck with him, the smile on his lips slowly fading as he imagined coming home to Paul and telling him about all the good grades he had and that people were copying off _him_ now. He could easily imagine the proud smile that would appear on the man’s face, the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle, and the shine in his eyes. He would then tell John how well he did and pull him to him, probably for a kiss, his arms wrapping possessively around his waist. John smiled weakly to himself at the thought, his throat constricting, and pushed it away. His lips tinkled at the memory of Paul’s kisses, but he tried to ignore it.

He turned a corner and then another one, finding himself on his street. It was the middle of the day, meaning it was quite outside, with most people being at work or at school or doing housework. Or at least, it was supposed to be that way. To his surprise there were quite some people out, hovering around in their front garden, alone or in groups, all looking into the direction of one house: his house. Frowning, John hurried on. He could hear people whisper and some were now looking at him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. When he reached his house, however, he was only more confused. There stood a policeman at his door. As soon as he saw him, he took off his cap and gave him a sympathetic look.

“What is going on?” John asked as he opened the gate and walked up to his house.

“John,” the man began, not surprising John that he knew his name. He had made plenty of trips to the police station in his life. Before last year he had been almost a regular. “I’m sorry but I’m here to take you to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” John asked, frowning. From the corner of his eye he could see some people coming closer, clearly trying to hear. The policeman nodded and took a step closer to him. On impulse, John took a step back.

“No one is in trouble,” the man assured him, “It’s… listen, John, I’d rather not tell you this with everyone here. Come with me in the car, please.”

“Why are we going to the hospital?”

“John, I will tell you on the way there. You’re not in trouble. It’s nothing like that.”

“But-“

“John, please just come with me,” the policeman pleaded and John stared at him for a moment, seizing him up.

“Not before you tell me,” he said and the other man sighed, running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head.

“John-“

“Tell me first.”

“It’s… it’s your mother,” he finally said and John’s entire body froze on the spot, like his heart had suddenly stopped beating, “she… she had an accident.”

“Wh-wh-what?!”

“She… she was hit by a car while crossing the street. She’s taken to the hospital, but it looks bad. I-I’m sorry, John.”

John’s body shook as he listened to the words, not believing what he had just heard. She couldn’t be… not now. Not when they were finally alright again. She couldn’t be… it couldn’t have happened. His knees felt weak, and John wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit down or run away. A hand on his shoulder steadied him. He could hear that the policeman was still talking to him, but the words were lost on him. He could only stare at nothing, repeat the words in his mind, and fight the urge to scream, as he was being led away from the house and towards the police car, that he only now noticed was parked a little it down the road.

“But… but… Jules?” he stammered, but the policeman squeezed his shoulder, telling John it was alright, as he opened the car door for him.           

“We called her school. She’s going home with a classmate. It is best not to make her worry,” he said and John nodded, and continue to nod as he sat in the car, staring down at his trembling fingers. She couldn’t…. she couldn’t… die?  

* * *

 

The bright fluorescent lights of the hospital hurt John’s eyes as he was guided through the many hallways. He was still in shock, making time seem to pass much faster and much slower at the same time. Everything seemed to happen in a haze, making him more an object than an active participant in his own life. He couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. He could only stare wordlessly into nothingness, as his mind stayed completely blank. He could feel his body shaking and trembling, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. Every sensation in his body felt dull.

The policeman’s grip on his arm was firm, though, keeping John grounded at the dull pain he could only just feel. He nearly tripped over his own feet a few times, and only looked up when they suddenly stopped moving. It took a while before the room they were in came into focus, and even then John’s mind had a hard time making sense of any of it. They were in a waiting room of some sorts. The room was square, with rows of little red chairs along the plain grey walls. Two newspapers stands stood against a wall and in the middle of the room was a large square coffee table, on which paper cups, magazines, and newspapers were placed. There were a few other people in the room, but John couldn’t recognise them. They looked funny to him. As if something wasn’t quite right.

The policeman started moving again, dragging John with him to a small group of people in one of the corners of the room. As they got closer, John slowly began to recognise them. One, he now saw, was his aunt. She was completely white and sitting on one of the red chairs, his chin resting on her hand. She sat up as she caught sight of him. With her was a nurse and another policeman, both in uniform. His aunt moved to stand up, but the nurse held her down with a firm hand. She said something and Mimi nodded. John had heard what she had said, but the words made little sense to him. When he was closer, Mimi reached out for him, grabbing his wrist tightly in her hand and pulling him to the chair beside her, urging him to sit down. John did so, but only because his legs felt too weak to hold his weight any longer.

“John. Oh, John. I’m so sorry,” Mimi started, taking one of John’s hands into his own and giving it a firm squeeze. John was glad to finally hear some words again that made sense to him.

“Wh-what’s happening? I-is she a-alright?” he heard himself asking, but aunt Mimi only looked down at John’s hand, shaking her head.

“They… they don’t know yet, John. But it’s not looking good,” she said, sounding apologetic and John nodded as he swallowed thickly at the news. On instinct, he pulled his hand away from his aunt’s grasp, and started rubbing up and down his thighs, needing to have something to do. He was restless, nervous and scared about what would happen to his mother. He never had been any good at waiting, but now it was so many times worse, knowing that his mother was there somewhere, and that those doctors were doing whatever with her. It was awful, and John needed to do something. Just anything. He couldn’t just sit here while his mother… while she…

“There’s nothing we can do, John. Worrying won’t do her any good. All we can do is wait and hope for the best,” Mimi told him, knowing exactly what her nephew was like.

“She can’t die, can she, Mimi?” John asked. Mimi, however, didn’t answer that question and only looked away from him.

“Can she?” John repeated, his eyes snapping to his aunt in fear. Mimi looked up at him again, and slowly opened her mouth to speak, but just before she could, the door to the waiting room opened and a doctor walked in, looking rather uneasy and grim.

“Mrs Mimi Smith?” he asked, directing his gaze to her. Mimi nodded and as she stood up, John could see fear reflected in her normally iron gaze. The sight made his body jerk, realisation dawning on him. His aunt was actually afraid, scared for her sister’s life. His aunt, who was normally so strong and rational and who didn’t let herself be scared or taking away by emotion, was now honestly afraid. His eyes moved between his aunt and the doctor and back again, and before the doctor had even managed to say another word, John jumped up from his seat and ran away. He knew what was coming. Mimi wouldn’t be afraid for no reason, and the look on the doctor’s face said more than John wanted. The doctor was about the bring the news and he couldn’t bear to hear it.

“John!” he could hear his aunt call after him, but he ignored her. He knew all there was to know. There was no use in staying to hear it. Not when he knew it would crush him so utterly and completely. His mother… she was dead.

He kept on running until he was finally outside of the hospital, where he collapsed onto the steps leading up to the large doors. He sat there, legs pulled up to his chest and head hanging between his knees, as he tried to remain calm. The people who walked past him didn’t even seem to notice him, simply moving on without saying a word. No one stopped to ask if he was okay. They all just walked right past him. Most of them didn’t even look at him.

John didn’t mind. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be alone. He felt tears swell up in his eyes as he thought about his mother, and started pinching himself to stop himself from crying. She was gone. Dead. The word sounded harsh and real. John liked it that way. No bullshit. She was dead. People might as well admit it and not try to talk around it with pretty metaphors and euphemisms. She was dead. Once again, she had left him and this time for good, leaving him all alone in this fucked-up world. All because of one stupid cunt in a car. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Everyone always left him. And now finally, so had his mother. It wasn’t fucking fair.

“John?” It was Mimi’s voice, soft and careful, like it had been that evening back in June when John had showed up at her door after Julia… He stopped himself. Just thinking about anything having to do with her made him sick. He bit back his tears and turned his body away from his aunt, not feeling like talking. Mimi, however, didn’t go away, but instead she moved to sit down next to John, her feet coming up to rest next to John’s. He didn’t tell her to go away.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” And that’s when John broke down. Tears were suddenly streaming from his eyes and down his cheeks, as he sobbed and turned his body to his aunt, his hands reaching out for her and grabbing at her, pulling her closer as he rested his head against her shoulder and cried. Mimi tentatively wrapped an arm around her, not being used to seeing her nephew like this and unsure what to do with it. Not knowing what else she could do, she pulled him against her and let him cry.

          Julia Lennon had died. It hadn’t meant to happen and Mimi partially blamed herself. She had ran out of biscuits to go with the tea, and Julia had offered to go get some for them. She’d take the bus and she’d be back soon and pick up some flowers on the way for Mimi to put on the coffee table, since the ones she had were almost dead. She hadn’t needed to go, but Julia had assured her it wouldn’t be any trouble, so Mimi had let her. She had waved Julia off, watching her as she crossed the street towards the bus stop across the street. She had only just turned around to walk back inside the house, when she heard the screeching of tires, followed by a hard cracking thud. When she turned around, Julia was lying on the ground, a puddle of blood beneath her body and on the car that had hit her. The driver had been an off-duty police officer. He had drunk far too much and been speeding. When he had seen her, he had pressed down onto the accelerator instead of the breaks. Julia had never even seen the car coming. Next, Julia had been hurried to the hospital, and Mimi had gone with her in the ambulance. When they arrived, she had barely still been alive. The doctors had tried, but it already was too late. Too many fractures. Too much blood loss. There had been a bleeding in her brain. There was nothing that could have been done.

There had been no moment of discussion about what would happen to the children. Mimi took them in, offering her own double room for brother and sister to share, while she would take John’s old room, so the two students could remain in the other double bedroom that they shared. Right away, they had moved all their stuff into Mendips, and made the bedroom their home. Right from the first night, Mimi had decided, they needed to feel at home. Although the change had been sudden, it went smoothly, saving John and Jules a lot of trouble and pain, seeing as they hadn’t needed to return to their old and now empty home.

The house, however, proved not to be made for five people. The corridors and stairs were too narrow, the table not big enough, the rooms too cramped, but they managed. The two students Mimi had taken in mostly stayed in their bedroom or the study, while John, Jules and Mimi, mostly spend their time in the kitchen, the small sitting room or their respective bedrooms. The front room was mostly kept for Sundays, when everyone was mostly at home, or to receive guests in. They were constantly on each other’s lips, but neither Jules nor John was really bothered, liking not being alone, as being alone mostly allowed them to think about their mum.

Since his break down on the steps of the hospital, John hadn’t cried anymore. It wouldn’t do him or his mother any good, after all. It wouldn’t bring her back, nor could it turn back time. Besides, he wanted to be strong for his sister, who seemed to take it all a bit harder. He could hear her cry at night in the bed beside his own and throughout the day she would mostly sit and do nothing. Sometimes she’d listen to the radio and sigh sadly to herself, or read a book, but John could see she wasn’t reading more than eleven or twelve pages an hour, if that. He tried to cheer her up, but mostly found that he couldn’t.

John himself mostly focused on his schoolwork or spend the day playing guitar when he didn’t have anything else to do, needing the distraction to keep himself from thinking about his mother too much. He had started smoking a lot more too. It calmed his nerves and gave him something to do, meaning he almost smoked about a pack a day now. His aunt wasn’t happy with it, but John didn’t care.

His social life had started to go down, too. He didn’t feel like hanging out with friends or talking to them, preferring to be alone. They didn’t understand, anyway. The last letter he had sent Stu, had been short. Just one sentence: _Mum died_. Since then he had received about two letters a day from him, asking if he was okay, what had happened and begging him to answer the phone. John read them, but never answered, not feeling like it. He kept them save under his pillow. The phone calls he ignored completely.

Cynthia tried to comfort him, coming over to visit and trying to get him to talk about. She knew what he was going through, having lost her own father, but for some reason she didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t want to talk about. That he didn’t want to think about. And that he was thinking about not even going to the funeral.

“You have to go, John! She’s your mother!” She’d say, and John would only scoff in return, eyeing here from his bed as he sucked on a ciggy.

“And do what? Watch as they lower her body into the ground for the worms to eat. No thank you,” he said, but Cynthia didn’t give up that easily.

“It’s a chance to say goodbye, John. To get closure. After my father’s funeral-“

“Ah! But I’m not you, aren’t I?” He’d snap back at her, turning his body away from her and curling up into a little ball. Cynthia mostly fell silently at that, and would change the subject or get up and leave. The last time, she had left and he hadn’t seen her since.

He truly wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to Julia’s funeral, though. The idea of sitting in a church, with all those strange people who never cared about his mother or him or his sister before, all sharing stupid memories and pretending to care, sounding awful to him. And then he’d have to sit there, and he could already hear the pitying whispers and the sad looks. And then he’d have to listen to some old dude talk about death and the bible, even though his mother had never even been that religious. The idea of seeing his mother lying in a coffin didn’t sound much better, nor sounded watching her being lowered into the earth to rot. The whole thing sounded horrible and fake.

The funeral hadn’t yet been arranged yet, though. Mimi first wanted him and Jules to settle in, before they’d have to worry about that. But now they were going to have to. John’s suit was hanging in front of his closet again, this time for a much grimmer event, and Mimi had already taking Jules shopping to get her a black dress – she couldn’t wear the one she had gotten for the wedding as it was far too colourful to be appropriate. That was another thing John hated about funerals. It had to be “appropriate”. He doubted his mother would have minded it if her daughter had shown up in a pink and yellow dress with white buttons and a bow on the back. Jules would have much preferred it too.

But John knew he would have to go. It was only “appropriate” and he wanted to be there for his sister. He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her be there alone. But he wasn’t looking forward to it. But he would go.

          “Mimi?” John asked one evening as they sat in the sitting room, both reading – or at least trying to – a book. They were alone, the students being out somewhere and Jules already having gone to bed. Hopefully she was sound asleep and not crying, like John had found her doing the last two days. The radio was softly playing on the background, and John had mostly focused on that, than his book, even if it was that classical stuff of those composers, whose names he always pronounced wrongly to annoy his aunt. Mimi glanced up from her book and waited for him to continue. John nervously licked his lip, before he did so, finally saying something that he had been meaning to ask since Mimi had taken him home from the hospital. “I… I want to invite Paul. To the funeral.” Mimi blinked at him as her mind worked to make sense of that, clearly not having expected John to suggest that.

“Paul? As in Paul McCartney?” she asked.

“Yes, Mimi. Who else?” Mimi stared at him a few seconds longer, before she took off her glasses with a sigh.

“John,” she started, “I don’t think that’s-“

“He deserves to be there. He was her fiancé! He… she would want him to be there,” John said, but Mimi didn’t look too convinced. She shook his head.

“John, dear, it’s not appropriate. What would people think?”

“She loved him, Mimi. And he loved her. Deeply. They would have gotten married if it wasn’t for…,” John sighed, not wanting to continue that hurtful sentence, “she would have wanted him to be there and Paul has the right to be invited. She still loved him!”

“That doesn’t mean she would have wanted him to come at her funeral. It’s not right, John. And she seemed to be pretty done with him.”

“No, Mimi! You don’t know her like I do. She was still crying over him the day before she died! I know her, Mimi. She would have wanted him there. I know she would have,” he told her. He jumped in fright when Mimi suddenly slammed her book shut and turned to look at him with an icy stare.

“Don’t tell me I don’t know my own sister, John,” she told him and John swallowed thickly, and gave a little nod, knowing that was out of line. Mimi sighed at that and rubbed her temples to try to sooth her upcoming head ache.

“John, I know she still cared for him, but… things aren’t as easy as that. It’s not just about that.”

“Yes, it is, Mimi! It is as simple as that. It’s stupid people with their stupid social rules that make it more complicated than it is! Please, Mimi.”

“I doubt he’d even come, John.”

“He will when I ask him.” John said, sounding more confident than he was actually feeling. But he wanted Paul to come. Needed him to. He wasn’t sure if he could manage the whole thing without him. And he knew his mother would like it. And Paul… he deserved a proper goodbye. After all they had gone through… It was proper.

Mimi looked at him with a calculating look as she thought it over in her head. John held her breath as he waited for her answer, hoping she’d say yes. When she finally let out a sigh and nodded her head, he jumped up, feeling somewhat happy.

“Oh, thank you, Mimi.”

“It’s at the St Peter’s Church in Woolton. It starts Thursdays at two. Tell that if he wants to come to pay his respects and say goodbye, that he is welcome,” she said and John nodded eagerly, as he put his book away and hurried out of the room, rushing to the study where he got himself some fancy paper to write on. He sat down behind a desk and pushed some of the papers aside that were scattered across it, not caring about the students in that moment. He picked up a pen and carefully wrote Paul a short letter, telling him about his mother’s death, even though Mimi had already let him know about it and told him about the funeral. At the bottom of the letter he wrote: _Please come._ He hoped it would be enough. He hoped he would come.

          Finally, it was the day of the funeral. Mimi had called both his and Jules’s school to tell them they weren’t coming, so they had the whole day off. Still, John awoke at six in the morning and couldn’t sleep at all anymore, feeling nervous for the day. He had spent the morning reading in bed and going over some schoolwork, before he had needed to get ready, and now he stood before the large mirror in his new bedroom, looking doubtfully at his own reflection.

He looked good, he had to admit, but the suit was uncomfortable – a constant reminder what this day was about and what could have been. Would she still have been alive if he had never gone after Paul? He nearly broke down at the thought, so he pushed it away, not allowing himself to think so destructively. He couldn’t blame himself. It was all that stupid copper’s fault. Drinking and driving, the fucking arsehole.

In his breast pocket, he kept a folded piece of paper with the words he had prepared. The idea of reading them out to everyone terrified him. The words seemed fake, too polite, too sweet, too little swearing. It wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like his mother. But it didn’t matter. John had decided that funerals weren’t for the deceased or people close to them. Only for acquaintances, allowing people to glorify a false image of the person and through them a saint-like image of themselves. In truth, he felt it was disgusting, but he kept his mouth shut like a good boy and played his part. Or so was the plan.

He hadn’t heard anything from Paul since he had written him the letter, but still John had hoped Paul would turn up. It would be good. Closure, like Cynthia had told him. He wished he hadn’t been such an arse to her. He would have liked her to come with him for moral support. Now he had no one, apart from his sister, but he was supposed to be there for her. The only person who could be there for him, was Paul. They could be there for each other.

John fixed himself in the mirror, placing his Buddy Holly-glasses on his nose and straightening out his suit. He checked his breast pocket to make sure the little note was really there, before he flattened out his hair with his brush, getting rid of his Elvis-do. Another thing his mother probably wouldn’t approve of. After all, she had been the one to help him style it like that in the first place.

“John! We’re leaving!” Mimi shouted from downstairs and John let out a deep sad sigh, before he straightened his tie once more and winked at himself in a faint attempt to cheer himself up. It didn’t work.

“I’m coming!” he shouted back, and with that, he left the room, closing the door behind him, and coming down the stairs to find Mimi, the two students and Jules waiting. John wasn’t sure why the students were coming along, but he didn’t ask, not wanting to be rude. Mimi had told him not to be rude.

          It was a sunny day at the church, with birds chirping and the wind rushing through the trees that surrounded the place. John had taken a seat in the grass with his face in direction of the drive away, his back turned to the church. People in fancy clothes were coming in small groups and occasionally alone. Women in smart dark dresses, with little hats and gloves, men in suits with their own hats, some even with a cane. They looked ridiculous, but John wasn’t in a laughing mood even.

There had been no sight of Paul yet, and John kept a close look out for either that familiar car to drive past or that great mop of silky dark brown hair to appear among the hats of strangers. But he never saw him. Slowly, the coming of people slowed and the driveway cleared, making it easier for John to spot Paul if he would come, but again he couldn’t see him.

“John?” Mimi suddenly asked from behind him. He hadn’t even heard her. He hummed in reply to let her know he was listening, but kept his eyes firmly in front of him, not wanting to miss him. “They’re about to start. Are you coming?”

“Just a moment, Mimi!” John called back, and he could hear his aunt huff. Still, she turned back around and he could hear her heels on the gravel as she walked away. He sat there a while longer, ignoring the pitying looks and remarks from the people who walked past him, people who were whispering his name, or Jules’s, calling them “those poor children”. He managed to shoos Mimi away one more time, but still there was no Paul. Finally, the driveway was completely empty, and still he had not seen Paul. John’s heart fell, as he heard his aunt’s footsteps again, halting just behind him.

“I’m sorry, John,” she said, but John knew she didn’t mean it. She had never wanted Paul to come. And now she had her way. He bit back the urge to yell at her or to ran away, and instead scrambled up onto his feet. He slipped his glasses further up his nose and shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Come on,” Mimi said, reaching for her nephew by laying a black gloved hand on his shoulder and pulling him closer, “let’s get inside.” John nodded and went with her. For the rest of the day, he did what his aunt asked him to do. He smiled at the right times, cried at other times, and kept close to his sister. When it was his time to do his speech, he refused, and he could hear more people muttering empathetically, but they didn’t understand. Nor, did he walk up to see her in her coffin. Then, they went outside and John shovelled some dirt on his mother’s coffin, like a good son, and watched his sister do the same. Then, as people slowly started to drift away from the grave, he stayed behind, staring down at it and slowly letting the tears roll down his cheeks, wishing he was dead too. Just to be with here. To not be alone.


	33. Chapter 33

London was dark and cold in the early days of December. Christmas decorations were scattered all over the city, hanging across streets, marking the edges of buildings and embellishing the leafless, barren trees, fighting away the gloom with their bright colours of reds, greens and sparkling whites, their glittering lights and the jolly Christmas songs that came from every shop. Even the red busses that drove through the city were made to look Christmas-y and you couldn’t enter a shopping mall without there being a large Christmas tree and multiple Santa Clauses. It gave the city a magical atmosphere that John had grown to love in the two years he had been living in the city. He didn’t even mind the cold anymore.

School had just finished for the day and John and his friend Maddie were rushing through the busy streets to their usual pub for something hot to warm their hands and bellies with. They accidentally knocked over someone on a bicycle and had only just shouted some quick apologies, before they almost got run over by a car. They laughed happily and John took her hand in his own to drag her off the street and onto the curb, bringing them both to safety. Some people looked at them weirdly, rolling their eyes as they muttered something about “today’s youth”, but John and Maddie ignored them and simply hurried on, until they finally reached the pub. They were still holding onto each other and were giggling happily as they stumbled inside and were engulfed into the warmth and comfort of the busy London pub.

“I’ll get us a table to sit at. Get us something to drink, would you?” Maddie asked as she pulled off her woollen hat, revealing her deep black hair that was cut into a bob, the ends of which curled up around her face. Her dark blue eyes gazed at him expectantly, yet they had something daring about them.

“Sure. What would you like?” John asked. She only grinned.

“Hot chocolate.”

“Let me guess, with cream?”

“You say it like there’s another option,” she replied with a wink and John chuckled, before he leaned in to kiss her cheek. She smiled at the affection and turned on her heels as she walked away from him to find them a table to sit at, lightly swaying her hips as she went in a way that was more domineering than seductive. She was a great gal, John thought.

It was still strange to think he had actually made it. He had gotten through his last year of school fine – despite the difficulties and his mother’s death – and had managed to get himself into art college in London. He was doing well: he was getting good grades, had found a few friends, was living in a great little apartment with Eric, and was actually living a rather good life. It was strange how drastically your life could change in three years.

It hadn’t been easy, though. His mother’s sudden death had been hard on him, especially since he had had to move in with his aunt in a house that was far too full. He had fought through the sadness, while struggling to keep his mother’s memory alive, had been there for his sister, for whom losing both Paul and Julia so suddenly hadn’t been easy at all, and had studied hard to get through the year. Especially right after his mother’s funeral, it had been difficult on him, and his grades had dropped drastically for a moment, and with that the confidence he had found in himself. But eventually, with the help of his aunt, he had managed to pull himself together.

It hadn’t helped that he had not heard from Paul at all. Even now, more than three years after he had sent him that invitation for the funeral, he hadn’t contacted John at all. It had been puzzling, stressful and genuinely painful, making John feel even more alone than he already was.  

But he was over that now. Or so he told himself. If Paul didn’t want to have anything to do with him, his sister or Julia ever again, that was his choice and there was nothing John could do about it. Of course, he had foolishly hoped he could have found Paul in London when he had moved here the summer following his mother’s funeral. He had tried even, but with only the address of Paul’s old workplace to go on, he had hit a wall quickly. One thing he did know, though, and that was that Paul had received his letter. He had picked it up, but never answered, which John had decided told him enough. Paul had made his choice, and he wasn’t it. Maddie had been a wonderful help too, he had to admit. She had made him realise now man was worth all that trouble, and John had quickly seen that she was right.

Maddie had taken a seat in one of the booths and was busy taking off her long woollen winter coat – truly fashionable, according to the latest trends, with the fake fur along the ends of the sleeves and the neck – so she was only wearing her lacy white blouse and green A-line skirt. She always took the trouble to look her best, since she was mostly interested in fashion in her studies. She always kind of thought she had to, because of that. Not that she minded, of course. She carefully draped her coat over the back of her seat and turned her head to stare out of the window while she waited.

John turned around and went over to the bar, taking in his surroundings to see if there were any other people around who he knew. The pub was pretty full, with most people having just come off work, but there wasn’t anyone around who caught his eye in particular. That is, until his eyes landed on an old familiar figure seated at the bar. He caught his eye briefly, before the man quickly turned away from him to stare down into his glass of whiskey.

Just in that short moment, memories of days and nights spent together came back to him, and John couldn’t move at all for a moment. He could only stare, his gaze digging into the man’s back. He hadn’t seen him for over three years, and now he simply sat there, drinking his whiskey. He still looked the same, with his brown hair, straight back, slim figure, hazel doe eyes and chubby cheeks. He had shaved his beard again, but John had been able to see the start of a stubble on his chin. He looked older though, his skin being more wrinkly and his hair greyer, but he still looked remarkably good for a guy who was… what? Forty-six?

Biting his lips, John wondered what he should do. Paul had already seen him, he knew that, but would he even want to talk to him? He hadn’t tried to contact him at all, and for all John knew he could have found himself another girl. Perhaps he had even gotten married! Surely he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him then? And even if he would, what was he going to say? Would he just go up to him? And then what? What if they didn’t hit it off anymore. What if it was just horribly awkward. What if Paul hated him? What if he had never even liked him and blamed him for how his engagement had ended? But then again, there was a chance that they would hit it off again. That the connection was still there. That they could talk about things.  That they could…

John shook his head. He was being ridiculous. It had been three years since he had seen Paul and Paul probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him. They were over. The fact that he hadn’t come to the funeral had been enough prove of that, after all. Going up to him now, would just be silly. Wouldn’t it? Right?

Taking a deep breath, he looked away from Paul and moved to the other end of the bar to get him and Maddie something to drink. It just wasn’t a good idea, he reasoned. It couldn’t end well. Even if Paul did want to see him and talk to him. It just wasn’t worth the pain. He quickly ordered two hot chocolates with cream and waited impatiently, occasionally glancing up to see if Paul was looking at him - it didn’t look like it. Once he got his drinks, he quickly hurried back to Maddie, taking a seat in the booth opposite her.

“Oh, that’s lovely, John. Thanks. Oh god, I needed that,” Maddie said as she eagerly grabbed one of the mugs and brought it to her lips, not even minding that it was too hot to drink yet. Or at least, for John it was. Maddie didn’t seem to have any trouble with it at all. John, however, found it difficult to find it amusing, his thoughts being occupied with a specific someone. Maddie noticed right away.

“What is it?” she asked as she put her drink back down, leaving a cream moustache behind above her lip. John saw it, but couldn’t laugh. Disappointed, she rubbed it off with a napkin.

“It’s nothing.”

“John, I can see something’s bothering you. You look all serious and stuff. You don’t get to lie to me, remember?”

“Really, Maddie. It’s nothing important. Just an old familiar face,” John explained, and before he knew what he was doing, his eyes were moving to the bar at which Paul was sitting. He quickly looked away as he caught the older man glancing at their booth. Maddie, however, was smiling knowingly, having followed John’s gaze.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” John only had to nod before she clasped her hands together in excitement. “I knew it!”

“Oh yes, yell it a little louder, why don’t you! It’s not like he can hear you or anything,” John muttered in annoyance, wrapping his hands around the hot mug to warm them from the cold outside. He tried to look out of the window by their booth and not bother with the other man any longer, but Maddie wouldn’t let him.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go up to him!” Maddie told him as she wildly gestured into Paul’s direction. John groaned, shaking his head.

“I don’t know about this, Maddie.”

“It’s just an ‘hello’. What are you afraid of.?

“You know what I’m afraid of,” John simply said, and Maddie shrugged as if it barely mattered. She did know, though. John had told her everything about his relationship with Paul and everything that had happened. He hadn’t wanted to tell her at first, but they had been hanging out together in John’s apartment when Eric – who was now his roommate – had made an inappropriate joke about him liking older men. Maddie had picked up on the fact that it wasn’t as much of a joke as it could have been, and hadn’t stopped interrogating him, until John had been left with no choice – Eric had ran his mouth. He did that when he had had too much to drink. Thankfully, she hadn’t been as judgemental about it as John had feared she’d be and she had actually helped him get over Paul. Now, however, it seemed John getting over him was the least of her worries.

“You’ll be fine. Just go say hi. See where it leads. I’m here if you need me to save you, okay? I’ll keep an eye out,” she told him as she started tugging at his arm, urging him to go over. John glanced nervously at the older man, who thankfully wasn’t looking into their direction. That would have been embarrassing.

“See where it leads?! You sound like you _want_ me to get off with him.”

“Well, it would save me many headaches,” she replied with a wink. When John only stared stupidly at her, she added, “You, John. You moan _a lot_.”

“I don’t,” John replied stubbornly. He didn’t moan. It was just that sometimes he just wished he could meet someone. Someone nice. Like Paul. And then he’d only say he missed Paul. A lot. Yeah, okay, perhaps he did moan. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, realising he was seriously considering going over to him.

“Should I?” he couldn’t help but ask. Maddie rolled her eyes and practically pushed him off his seat. In order not to look stupid, John quickly got up and turned to the bar, where Paul was still sitting, his back turned to them.

“Just go!” Maddie hissed at him once more and with a final nod, John went over to the bar, seeing there was an empty seat besides Paul.

        Ignoring the rapid beating of his heart, John forced himself to move on and slip onto the bar stool next to Paul. His hands were hot and sweaty, and John wiped them off on his dark jeans, before nervously fixing his glasses that were perched on his nose. Then, he turned his head to the man beside him, words dying on his tongue as he saw Paul wasn’t even looking at him. He quickly turned back to look down at the bar. Oh god, what was he even doing?

“I-I didn’t think you’d come over.” John’s body tensed at the old familiar sound of Paul’s voice. It hadn’t aged at all, and was still just as smooth and with just a hint of scouse that gave away where he came from.  He slowly looked up to see Paul nervously smiling at him. “It’s been a while.” He found himself smiling back.

“I wasn’t going to at first,” John muttered in a reply, unsure how to act and what to say to the other man after so long.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Paul answered and John nodded.

“Good.” They remained quiet for a while after that, both thinking of something to say to the other. It felt weird to be this close to each other again, and John felt the incredible need to touch Paul. Just once. For a moment. But he refrained, knowing it would be weird. How strange was that? The last time they had seen each other they had been curled up together on the couch, reading a book in a comfortable silence, both still in love. Being next to him again, on the one hand it felt strange and awkward, while on the other hand it was familiar and good, as if they could simply continue where they had left off. But at the same time there was a distance between them. They had changed, they both had. Three years was a long time.

“So,” Paul finally spoke after a while, “how are you?”

“I… I’m good. Got into art school like you told me I could,” John said, figuring it would be best to keep the conversation casual, at least at the beginning.

“Really! That’s great. What year are you in now?” Paul asked with a nervous grimace.

“2nd. It’s great. I er… I live here now. Me and Eric, we rent a place together. Jules comes over to visit every so often, which is nice.”

“How is she doing then?”

“Better. She’s still living with Mimi, but she’s doing alright at school. She’s a bit of a troublemaker, though. But she wouldn’t be family of mine, if she wasn’t.”

“And I see you’ve moved on, then. She’s pretty,” Paul said, sounding somewhat bitter.

“She?” John asked with a frown, not understanding what he meant. When Paul nodded into the direction of Maddie, John couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh her! No, she’s just a friend.”

“I saw you kissing her cheek.”

“ _Close_ friends.” John corrected with another chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Still not into them. And she’s not interested anyway. We er… we pretend, though. Somewhat. You’re not the only person to think we’re together, so we sort of just let them think it. It keeps the rumours away.”

“She’s like that too, then?”

“No. She’s er… not interested at all, let’s say,” John explained and Paul hummed as he nodded and looked back down into his glass, before taking a sip. John watched him for a while, his mind going back to how it was to feel those plump lips against his skin, his lips. The memory made his heart ache, and he promptly looked away with a frown. Then, he briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, understanding washing over him.

“What about you, then? You found anyone?” John asked as he gently opened his eyes again, catching himself at being hopeful Paul would say no.

“Once you’ve reached a certain age, it’s difficult to get back into the game, John. I’m not that young anymore.” John scoffed.

“That’s a load of crap,” he blatantly said, which made Paul laugh. The sound made John’s heart leap and his body shiver. God, he had missed the man.

“I er… I had someone. Young. 27, he was. Didn’t work out,” Paul said in a hushed voice, making sure only John could hear him. John tried not to let Paul see how he was reacting to him.

“I did it to get over you, but I only screwed it up,” Paul confessed. John nodded, not knowing what to do with that information. Thankfully, he didn’t need to figure it out, as Paul continued to speak. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. I… I’m sorry. About your mother.” When John didn’t react to that either, he said, “I like your new hairstyle. And you’re wearing your glasses. I never thought I’d live to see the day!” John couldn’t help but laugh at that, and nodded as he looked down at himself, feeling flattered. He had started to adopt Stuart’s German style: mop top, collarless shirts, dark trousers (sometimes leather), even the occasional suit. He had even started to wear his glasses more, thinking they looked somewhat good with his style now. Plus, he could actually see now.

“Thanks,” he said and slipped his glasses a little further up his nose, “you don’t look so bad yourself. For an old guy.” When Paul started laughing, he laughed along and shot him a wink, feeling how his body relaxed the longer the spoke and laughed with the other man, both of them slowly falling back into the old feeling of comfort that they used to have around each other.

“I have missed you,” John suddenly heard himself saying and he froze up in panic at his own words. He gazed up at Paul with wide eyes, scared to see how he’d react to the confession. To his surprise, he smiled, before glancing at the watch around his wrist.

“I er… I understand if you’d rather not, but… would you like to grab ourselves something to eat? It’s almost dinner time, and I was going to get myself some simple fish and chips. If you’d like to join me?” Paul asked and John stared at him blankly, not having expected that. He must have taken a while, for Paul’s smile slowly vanished from his face.

“I mean… only if you want to, of course. If you have other plans…” He nodded into the direction of Maddie, who, John saw from the corner of his eye, had ran into one of her friends and was talking animatedly with her. She didn’t even notice them looking. He shook his head and when he looked back at Paul he saw how his face fell in disappointment.

“No! I er… I don’t have any plans. I er… I’d like that. Fish and chips. It’d be nice. To talk,” he quickly explained and Paul’s face brightened up again, and with that, so did John’s heart. The older man nodded and grabbed his coat from the chair beside him, before he moved to stand. He offered John a hand to help him do that same, which John took without even thinking about it.

“Let’s go, then. I’m starving,” Paul said with a wink and John nodded.

“Yeah. I just need to say goodbye to Maddie. I won’t be long,” he promised and with that, he quickly hurried back to his and Maddie’s table. He didn’t even look to see with whom she was talking, before he slammed his hands down at the table, catching her undivided attention right away.

“He asked me out for dinner. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked her. Maddie looked kind of taken aback, but as soon as the words made sense to her, she nodded eagerly.

“No! No, of course I don’t mind. Go!” she told him with a wink and John nodded, a radiant smile on his face.

“Thanks. I’ll see you at school. Bye!”

“John! Call me. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she shouted after him, and John turned to wink at her, before quickly hurrying over to the door where Paul was waiting for him. His heart skipped a beat when the older man smiled at him.

“Ready?” Paul asked and once John nodded, he opened the door for him and guided John outside, where it had started to rain. Before John could even comment on it, Paul had pulled out an umbrella, and held it above both their heads. It was only a small one, meaning they needed to walk closely together, but neither Paul nor John complained as they walked towards Paul’s apartment, stopping on the way to get their fish and chips. By the time they had reached the apartment, they were walking so closely together, their arms were continuously brushing, and their cheeks had heated despite the cold. How odd life could be, John thought. Still, there was one question that burned on his lips - a question he was afraid to ask. Because he wasn’t sure if he could handle the answer.

* * *

 

The apartment was small but cosy, consisting of two bedrooms, one of which was a small single which Paul used as a study, a small bathroom, a small living room and a galley kitchen that had seen better days. The wallpapers on all the walls were outdated, and the furniture was all mismatched, but to John it gave the place something cosy and familiar. Right away, he felt at home. As Paul let him into the living room, John kept an eye out, taking everything in. He was glad to note he still remembered some of the furniture and the pictures from when Paul had been living with them.

The living room was slightly messy, with books and pieces of papers scattered everywhere. There were too large piles of English essays on the coffee table between the couch and the telly, which told John he was still teaching. He hadn’t really expected any differently. His eyes fell on a piano behind the couch, that stood against a wall, and John recognised it right away, the corners of his lips tugging up into a grin as he remembered the time he and Paul had had sex on it. God, they had done some crazy things.

“You don’t mind us having dinner on the couch, do you? I er… I kind of got rid of the dining table to make room for the piano,” Paul asked from behind him. John turned to grin at him.

“Of course, you did.”

“You don’t mind, then?” Paul asked again, and when John shook his head, he smiled back.

“Please, take a seat. I’ll be right back with the food,” he said and with that, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving John alone behind. John sighed as he heard the door to the kitchen fall shut and had a quick look around as he walked to the couch to take a seat like Paul had told him to. The piano was covered in papers, probably ideas and scribbles of songs Paul was writing or figuring out. The odd thing was, except for the hundreds of pieces of paper and books that were scattered all across the room, it was actually very tidy and clean. There was no actual junk lying around to speak off, nor was there a stain on anything and it seemed that everything was recently cleaned. John chuckled at the thought of Paul lifting up all the papers to clean, but not bothering to actually put those away. And of course, he would know exactly where everything was.

He took off his coat and hung it over the back of the couch, before he sat down. A small stack of records lay on the coffee table next to the essays, and John stared to skim through them all. A few of them were new, having come out in the last six or five months, but John was glad to note he found some older once as well, many of which he had himself as well. At least his music taste hadn’t changed. He picked one of his favourites up and went over to the record player Paul had placed beside the telly and put it on.

 

_I’ll never let you see  
_ _The way my broken heart is hurting me  
_ _I’ve got my pride and I know how to hide  
_ _All my sorrow and pain  
_ _I’ll do my crying in the rain_

“Everly Brothers!” Paul remarked with a shout from the kitchen, “Good choice.” John chuckled at that, putting the cover away, before sitting back down.

“It better be. It’s your record,” he said and he had just sat back down, when Paul appeared through the door, carrying two plates of fish and chips and a bottle of wine, which he had clamped under his arm. John sat up a bit more and quickly took the two plates from him and placed one on his lap and the other on the coffee table – making sure to move some of the papers away first, just in case. Paul went over to one of the lower cabinets on top of which the telly stood and got them two wine glasses. He poured them both a generous amount and put the bottle down, before taking a seat next to John, who had already started on his food.

“I thought plates would work better on the couch,” Paul explained as he picked up his own plate as well. John only nodded, being too eager for some food to pause to speak. Paul only chuckled at that and took a bite of his fish. By the time he had finished that, John had already finished most of his chips.

“You know, it’s not going to run away if you’re not quick enough right?” Paul asked with an amused chuckle. John shrugged and stuffed some more chips down his throat, before turning to look at Paul, who looked at him in disgust as he was forced to watch him eat.

“I’m hungry!” John explained with a full mouth, and Paul was forced to look away if he wanted to keep his own appetite.

“I can see that,” he muttered, and took another reluctant bite from his fish. John chuckled, but still tried to eat slower, which he knew Paul noticed. Still, he didn’t say anything and neither that John.

“So?” Paul asked after a moment, pausing to take a sip from his overly full glass of wine, “How are things back in Liverpool?”

“Don’t quite know. I haven’t been back since this summer. Cyn got married though. To that cunt of a Barry.”

“John!” Paul exclaimed, more out of habit than that he was really that shocked with John’s swearing. John quickly shushed him with a wave of his hand.

“No, it’s okay. I’m being supportive.”

“By calling him a cunt?” Paul asked, chuckling when John nodded.

“Of course! I’m not calling him that to his face, am I?” he said with a wink, and Paul shook his head in disapproval, though John could see he thought it was funny. He had seen that face up close far too many times not to recognise every little twitch and know exactly what it meant. Right now, he was just pretending, but John didn’t call him out on it. The knowledge was enough.

“They hadn’t planned on getting married yet, though. They got married last spring when Cyn realised she was pregnant. They have a little boy now. Annoying little thing. But also kind of cute, of course. Thinks I’m hilarious, so at least he’s got good taste. I guess I’m just glad it’s not mine.”

“Not ready for one yet, then?”

“Nah, not until I’m at least thirty.”

“How about Stu? See him still?”

“Yeah. Went to see him just a few months ago. He’s living in Hamburg now, moved in with this German bird. Astrid, her name is. She cut my hair, actually. You like it?” John asked with a seductive little wink. The other man’s cheeks flushed a very light pink at that, and John couldn’t help but feel pleased at that.

“I- I already told you, I did,” Paul said and John rolled his eyes at that, pretending to be annoyed.

“I’m fishing for compliments here, Macca! Make a man feel good about himself, will you?” he asked with a laugh. It died off, however, when he caught Paul staring at him. “What?”

“Just… ‘Macca’. No one called me that in a while,” he explained with a shrug.

Oh. Right.

“You didn’t see er… what’s his name… George lately, then?” John asked, as he fought the urge to look away at his own little slip of the tongue. Luckily, Paul went with the change of subject easily.

“No,” he said as he munched thoughtfully on his chips, “he kind of got mad at me after the whole affair, and… well… we made up but we don’t talk that often. He and Pattie are busy with their own lives, so…”

“What did you tell him, then? About what happened?” John asked, honestly curious, as his mother had left him completely in the dark about how she had let people know she and Paul were over and the wedding cancelled. No one had looked at him weirdly, so it was obvious it hadn’t been the truth.

“Your mum and me, we decided to tell people half of the truth,” Paul explained. John frowned at that, not understanding.

“What?”

“I told him I cheated with some younger girl.”

“And you agreed on that story?” John asked in disbelieve, but Paul still nodded.

“What I did to you and your mother was wrong, John. I deserved it.” It seemed to be the end of the conversation, with Paul turning his body away from the younger man and looking down at his food as he ate it, chewing it rather aggressively. John nodded and didn’t press him about it, feeling that there was still some of that guilt left in the older man. So, he looked away and turned back to his own food as well, occasionally taking a sip from his wine. Once he had finished it, Paul offered him some more and John gladly accepted, feeling that he was going to need it. When the record turned off, neither man moved to change it, leaving them to finish their food in an awkward silence.

          Once they had finished, Paul fled to the kitchen to do the dishes, telling John to stay seated, since he was the guest. At first, John did as he was told, but eventually, he couldn’t take the waiting any more, his nerves being too much to bear. He hadn’t meant to make it awkward between them with his question, and he didn’t want their last meeting to be bad, so he took it upon himself to make it up to him.

He walked towards the kitchen, and found Paul staring down into the water as he simply held one of the plates in it, not actually cleaning it. John sighed and walked over to him. He gently laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder, before he took the plate and brush from him. Paul looked up in surprise, but let John take over from him and help.

“You can dry them off,” he told him and Paul nodded, as he went to take a cloth. They did the dishes together in silence, and bit by bit they grew more comfortable around each other again. They had almost done them all, when John spoke again.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” he asked and Paul looked up at him with a questioning look. “I was just as much at fault. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened.” Paul nodded and smiled thankfully at him, but didn’t speak. When John looked at him again, and saw the hurt in his eyes, he bit his lip, wondering if he should ask him. It had bothered him every day since his mother’s funeral, and now was his change to ask. For all he knew, this could be the last time he saw the man. He had to know.

“Can… Can I ask you something?” John asked and Paul looked up in surprise, looking at John with a calculating gaze, before he nodded. “Why did you come?”

“Come where?” Paul asked, but John shook his head.

“You know where,” he said, and Paul briefly opened his mouth to speak, before he fell silent again. “I want to know.”

“John, can’t we just enjoy ourselves for a few minutes? It’s not important, anyway.”

“I think it’s important. I know you got my invitation.” John quickly said and they stared at each other daringly, until Paul gave in with a sigh.

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate, John,” he said, but John angrily put his brush down at that, being so fucking sick of these stupid people who decided what was and what wasn’t appropriate.

“You were her bloody fiancé! You had the right to be there! Hell, I even invited you!”

“It’s not as simple as that, John.”

“Isn’t it? You know what, Paul? People keep saying that, but I think it’s bullshit.”

“People wouldn’t have wanted me there, John. Not after what happened.”

“She fucking died! You were together for what? On and a half years? You were her fiancé! You had as much right as anyone else to be there, if not more than most. She still loved you! Who cares if you guys broke up?!”

“John-“

“Julia would have wanted you to be there, Paul. Jules wanted you to be there, too. I… I wanted you to be there. I… I _needed_ you to be there! Didn’t you think there was a reason I sent you that invitation? I _needed_ you there, Paul. I… God! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me when she died? How fucking alone I felt. First you, then her! And then Cyn was going to leave me and Stu had already gone to Germany to hang out with his new artsy friends! I had no one, Paul. My father was a cunt, my uncle died on me, you left without another word to me and then Mum was just fucking ripped away from me!”

“John, I know it must have been awful for you. But you weren’t alone.”

“Wasn’t I? Who did I have then, Paul? Mimi? My sister? Eric? Jules had her own loss to deal with, Eric didn’t fucking understand and Mimi… Emotional stuff isn’t really her thing, Paul, in case you hadn’t noticed. I needed someone there who understood me. Who knew how it felt. Who would be there for me, so I wouldn’t feel so fucking alone. But the only person who could have done that for me, thought it was too ‘inappropriate’ to come.”

“John-“

“You didn’t even answer my letter!” John exclaimed and when Paul fell quiet, he added, “I waited for you, you know. I sat there, in the drive way, in my suit, waiting for you, hoping to spot you between all those people. I sat there for over an hour! I fucking waited-“

“I know.”

John abruptly stopped talking as Paul whispered those two words. He was looking down, either in shame or to contain his own anger, his fingers pulling nervously at each other. His shoulders were hunched up, and in that moment he didn’t look like a 46-year-old man. When he looked up at John, his eyes were apologetic and reddish, which took John aback.

“W-What? What did you say?” he asked, not believing his own ears.

“I know,” Paul repeated and he took a deep breath before continuing, “I did come, John. I was there. I saw you there.”

“Y-you came?” John asked, and Paul nodded.

“I… Of course, I came. I couldn’t let you go through that alone. I know what it’s like, but…”

“Why did you come up to me?”

“Because I was scared. Fucking hell, John. You always think I’m brave and that I don’t care what people think of me, but I do. Fucking hell, I do. I saw how people were looking at you, with pity and sadness, but also how they talked. How bitter and hurtful they could be and… they were already talking about me when I wasn’t there, I… I didn’t want to find out what they would do when I would show up. What if they saw us together and would suspect something? Or what if they would make me leave? I… I didn’t want to deal with that.” He sighed deeply as he finished and moved to slump down into one of the two chairs at the small breakfast table. He took his head in his hands and started to massage his temples. John could only watch him, not knowing what to say.

“I wanted to come, John. For you, for Jules, for Julia. I wanted to say goodbye, but I was too fucking scared.”

“Why didn’t you come to see me after?” John asked, his voice much softer than he had meant it to be. Paul shrugged with a sigh as if it was nothing, but John knew better.

“I thought about it. I saw you by her grave when everyone had left, but I didn’t dare to. Because of this, I guess. I was afraid you’d be mad at me. Or that you would push me away.”

“I wouldn’t have pushed you away,” John said, but Paul shook his head. “I wouldn’t!”

“You always push people away, John. It’s what you did when you heard about the engagement, it’s what you did when you thought I was disgusted by you because of your strange kinks. Of course you would do the same thing now!”

“But not that time!” John tried again, but Paul still wouldn’t believe him, so he decided to give it his all. “I felt abandoned, Paul. I wasn’t even mad at you! I… I just… I felt so goddamn alone and when you didn’t show… I… I honestly thought you never loved me.” Paul looked up at him at that, wide-eyed.

“Of course, I loved you.”

“Well, I thought you didn’t. I… I thought you were mad at me. That I ruined everything and that you hated me for it. That you never even loved me in the first place. I blamed myself, Paul. For what happened to Julia. B-Because if I hadn’t come between you… you would still have been with her and she wouldn’t have… she wouldn’t have-“

“John, you cannot think that way. I-I… of course, I loved you. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. God, John…”

“But I’m right. If I hadn’t-“

“We did this together, John. No one is to blame. The only jerk who is to blame for what happened is that stupid drunk driver. Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself for this.”

“I know, Paul. I know that now. I just wished you could have told me that then,” John said, biting back tears that had started to burn behind his eyes. Both men fell silent at that, and for a moment all they could hear were the sounds from the city that came in through the open window and the silent hum of the heater. Eventually, John needed to look away, so he turned his back on the older man, not being able to look at him. He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing.

“John… I… I am so so sorry,” he said, but John shrugged him off him.

“I was so mad at you after that.”

“As you had the right to be.”

“But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop loving you. I couldn’t keep myself from hoping… hoping that you had loved me and perhaps still did. Or do,” John confessed. He took a deep breath as he waited nervously for a response.

“John-“ Paul started in that same tone he always did when he’d refuse him, like he had done so many times before. Immediately, John shook his head.

“No, Paul. Just tell me.”

“I… I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“We went over this so many times, John,” Paul said with a sigh and John turned around to face him again. Their eyes met and before Paul could do anything to stop the younger man, John had leaned in, grabbed the older man by his shoulders and forced their lips together in a firm and passionate kiss, giving it his everything in case Paul would refuse him, throw him out and he’d never see him again. He _needed_ to have this. Just once more.

Paul didn’t react at all to the kiss. He force up completely and only stared at John with wide eyes as he let himself be kissed, being too shocked to do anything. Once John finally pulled away, however, and regained control over his body. Or at least, he could move again. Because if he was controlling his body, he would have thrown John out, not kissed him back. Unlike Paul, however, John responded to the kiss right away, his hands coming up to curl around the back of Paul’s neck, his fingers moving up into his hair, as his lips started to lightly massage the other man’s with a light moan.

When they pulled back, his lips were wet with saliva and his cheeks a light pink, making him look positively adorable in Paul’s mind and for a moment it was as if they were back four years in time, back in Liverpool, stealing quick kisses whenever they could. It felt good. So good, he didn’t want to go back to the present, so he kissed John again. And again. And again. And again. And again. He could drown in them for all he cared, and it would be a happy death.

“I should have come to the funeral. I am sorry,” Paul whispered against the younger man’s mouth, and felt how the corners of his lips curled up in a smile as the apology. He nearly growled in frustrating when John broke the kiss.

“It was true what I said. I do still love you,” he confessed and Paul stared at him for a brief moment, before he smiled and pulled John closer to him, taking him completely in his arms and holding him tightly, afraid he would vanish into nothingness if he didn’t.

“I love you, too,” he confessed and John pecked him on the lips in reply, before cocking his head to the side. His fingers started to lightly play with the material of his shirt, tugging at it.

“So, what now?” he asked somewhat coyly, but Paul didn’t feel like playing any games. Not now. Not after so long. Now, he simply wanted to do and feel. He wanted to live and not worry. He simply wanted John. And John wanted him. The rest could come later. Much later.


	34. Chapter 34

Paul’s mouth was hot and needy against his own, and yet at the same time still tender and seductive, as if to lure him in, both eager to drown and be drowned, and John was more than willing to comply and let him. He clung onto him, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, as he let Paul kiss him, taste him, drink him and devour him. His mind was swimming, making it hard for him to focus on anything but Paul and the tongue that curled around his own.

He had missed this, had wanted this from the moment he had ran to his aunt Mimi’s house after Julia had walked in on him and Paul and he had known they were over. It had been torture not to have him, not to be able to kiss him and touch him and talk to him and feel his breath on his lips and see those hazel eyes gazing into his own, full of love, adoration and devotion. It had been torment to have those memories of those good times and not being able to relive them. But perhaps, to have him again, to feel his lips, his breath, his tongue, his touch, was even worse, the idea that this could be the last time being too unbearable. But he needed this – god, he needed this.

It was striking almost how quickly they got used to each other again, to their bodies, their touch, their smell and their taste, and with how much ease they fell back into their old familiar ways, both knowing exactly what the other wanted and needed, where to touch, where to lick, where to grasp, and where to kiss to make the other feel good. It was just a kiss – John was well aware. A hot, fervent, urgent, almost painful kiss, and yet it was so much more than that. It was love, need, repressed desires breaking free, but most importantly, it was them. Just them. Together. Unrestricted. Which was what both of them had always ever wanted, even if they would never admit to either the other or themselves.

A handle of one of the kitchen cabinets was poking John in the back as Paul pressed him up against them, covering his body with the entirety of his own, as his hands grabbed at John’s hips, pulling them against his own. John tried to ignore the pain, to let go and be engulfed by Paul and ignore all other stimuli, but before long he had to shift and change positions. Paul frowned at the movement, and pulled back for a moment to look John in the eye, as if to ask if he was okay. Once John was comfortably standing between two handles, rather than against one, he cupped Paul’s face in his hands and brought their lips together again, causing Paul to smirk into it. The kiss was somewhat awkward and sloppy at first, with the curve of Paul’s lips, but it only made it better.

“Hmm… I’ve missed this,” Paul moaned, his fingers digging into John’s flesh through his shirt as he tightened his hold, pulling him even closer to him. John hummed in reply and pecked Paul on the lips before he looked down between them at where their bodies were touching, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’ve missed _you_ ,” he said, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks as Paul stared at him in return. To keep it from turning awkward again, he leaned up and kissed Paul again, happy when Paul returned it immediately with a sigh.

“I’ve missed you too,” Paul replied in a husky whisper and gave a little experimental thrust with his hips against the younger man’s, rubbing his hardening crotch against John, who gasped at the friction and broke the kiss, his hands falling back to the older man’s shoulders.

“Shit…” he whispered and Paul chuckled in return. He stroked John’s cheek with his fingertips, gently angling his face back up to lock eyes with him. They stared into each other eyes for a moment, sharing the same air as neither of them spoke or made a move. In the end, it was Paul who couldn’t take it anymore, and he cocked his head to the side as he pulled John’s face to him, allowing their lips to meet for another kiss. John’s fingernails dug into Paul’s shoulders, causing the other man to groan at the slight pain, but he didn’t pull away, so John figured it was alright. He let out a groan himself when Paul rolled his hips again, but this one was of pleasure. Encouraged, Paul did it again and again and again, his movements becoming rougher with each groan that escaped John’s mouth in response.

“P-Paul…” the younger man muttered, already sounding breathless, as he broke the kiss to rest his hand on Paul’s shoulder, angling his face in such a way he could kiss his neck instead. Another groan fell from his lips as Paul thrusted his hips into him again.

“Please don’t tell me you want to stop,” Paul all but begged in return, feeling his body get hotter and hotter with every touch, move and sound. To his relief, John chuckled at that and shook his head as he raised his head and looked at him again, a little smile on his lips.

“No. I just wanted to ask you if you were still going to show me your bedroom?” He asked with a smug wink, which made him look even more adorable with his flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and Paul couldn’t help but laugh at that, halting all of his movements as he moved a hand into John’s hair and ruffled it, liking how easy it was now he hadn’t slicked it with any gel.

“You’re adorable,” he said and John grinned back at him as he shrugged.

“Not really what I was going for… but if it’s working?” Paul rolled his eyes at that and grabbed John by his shirt, pulling him roughly to him and away from the kitchen counters and forcing their lips together for another hungry kiss. John moaned in surprise but melted against him, the corners of his mouth curling up as Paul started to guide him out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom.

          John didn’t have any time to look around as he was pushed into Paul’s double bedroom. The older man shoved him to the bed and hurried to shut the door, before following him and launching himself on top of the younger man, who lay giggling in the middle of the bed. He didn’t even stop when Paul ran a hand through his hair and straddled his legs.

“What is it?” Paul asked with a giggle on his own; John’s laughter was infectious. John shook his head in reply and tried to stop, but there was a constant pull at his lips, making it more difficult than it should be.

“It’s nothing,” he said, still giggling, “just… the bed’s bouncy. It’s fun.” To underline his statement, he started bouncing on the bed, causing Paul to move with him. Paul could only stare down at him with a love-struck smile in return.

“You’re such a child,” he said, and John grinned as he stopped moving. The bed bounced a little longer, making them both rock back and forth.

“I better hope not,” he said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and Paul rolled his eyes at that, before capturing John’s mouth for another kiss to shut him up. It wasn’t really effective, as there were still sounds coming from his mouth, but at least he stopped talking, so Paul didn’t really mind. He could get used to the moaning.

He gripped John’s hips again with both hands and forced him down onto the bed as he rocked up against them, rubbing their clothed erections together and pulling another moan from John’s lips. The boy’s eyes fluttered close at the touch and when Paul did it again, he started to move with him, spreading his legs wider to give him more space. His own hands came as well, one tangling itself into Paul’s hair, as the other moved down Paul’s back to grab at his arse.

“P-Please, Paul,” John moaned as Paul kissed his way down from his mouth, over his jaw to his ear and down to the crook of his neck, where he knew he was sensitive. He chuckled at the neediness in John’s voice and rocked his hips down into John’s again, causing him to gasp his name.

“Don’t want to take it slow, then?” he asked smugly, already knowing the answer, which was only confirmed when John squeezed his arse with a frustrated growl that sounded somewhat like a “fuck no”. In return, he removed his lips from John’s skin and grabbed the younger man tightly before he flipped them over so John was on top of him, straddling his thighs. He laughed when he saw the wide-eyed look of surprise on the younger man’s face, the latter being temporarily disorientated by the sudden switch. When he looked down at him in confusement, he stroked his cheek with the back of his hand and offered him a sweet smile.

“I thought you’d like to be in charge for once,” he said and he had barely finished his sentence, before John had leaned down, grabbed his shirt with both hands and forced their lips together in a bruising kiss, his glasses sliding down his nose to rest against Paul’s as well. The two men snickered in return.

“You have _no_ idea how much I’ve missed you,” John breathed against his lips, pulling away again and Paul responded by bringing his hands up to the other’s face. He took John’s glasses between his fingers and slid them off his nose, before placing them on his bedside table with care, making sure not to accidentally break them. John smiled at him in return, being thankful those were off, before he leaned in for another kiss as his hands travelled down to Paul’s chest where he started fingering the buttons, popping each open one by one, exposing more and more of Paul’s bare chest at his own leisure as they explored each other’s mouths. Paul moaned and responded in kind, lowering his hands to do the same with the buttons of John’s pants, loosening them to the point where he could pull them down. John was more than happy to help with the last bit and sat up on Paul’s hips to take them off completely as Paul did the same with his own shirt, staring into each other’s eyes all the while. Then they did the same to the rest of their clothing, helping each other as much as they could, needing every little excuse to touch and feel the other again after more than three years of being apart. Once they were both naked and their clothes lay scattered across the room, they took in the sight of each other, their fingertips exploring and tracing every part, familiar or changed.

“You’ve gotten chubbier,” Paul joked after a long moment of silence. John blushed a deep red and slapped Paul on the arm in return.

“Shut up,” he muttered and Paul chuckled as he reached up to cradle the boy’s hand in his hand, stroking his cheek with his thumb as he sat up so he was eye to eye with him.

“I love you,” he spoke and John stared back at him for a moment, before he blushed even more and shyly looked down at their bodies, which made him look even more adorable. “I thought you deserved to know that.”

“You already told me.”

“There’s a difference between telling you and saying it back,” Paul said and John glanced up to meet his eyes, only smiling when Paul leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead. Before he could say anything in return, Paul had tangled his hand in his hair and was guiding him down with him as he laid back down on the bed, his head resting on his pillow.

“I want to feel you,” the older man breathed and John’s body shuddered at the suggestion, before he nodded in return, giving is consent. Paul pecked him on the lips in return, before he reached beside him and pulled the drawer of his bedside table open, out of which he pulled a bottle of lube and a condom. He offered them to John, but to his surprise, he shook his head and pressed the bottle back into his hand.

“You do it,” he said with a wink and Paul was speechless for a moment, before he came back to himself and nodded in return. John watched him as he opened the bottle and squirted some of the gel-like substance on his fingers, occupying his own fingers by drawing little figures on Paul’s chest, playing with the light hairs he found there. Once Paul’s fingers were wet, he leaned down and grabbed his wrist to guide him, keeping their eyes locked all the while. He gasped as he felt one of Paul’s slippery fingers ghost over his entrance, his nail catching on his rim.

“You ready?” Paul asked and John took a deep breath, before he nodded. He gasped again as Paul’s finger started rubbing along his opening, pulling at the rim and occasionally pushing his finger in for a millimetre, going deeper and deeper each time.  Once he started pushing his finger all the way in, John let out a little whine.

“You okay?” Paul couldn’t help but ask, but John was already nodding  “yes”.

“Yeah. Fine. Just…”            

“More lube?” Paul asked and John nodded with a blush. Paul pulled his finger out with care, before grabbing the bottle of lube again and adding some more. This time it went a lot easier and he kissed the lad’s temple to say it was all okay. Once his finger was all the way in, John let out a sigh of relief and asked Paul to hold still for a little while so he could get used to the feeling. Paul waited for a few moments, watching the expression on John’s face to see how he was doing, until the lad nodded again, giving his okay for Paul to continue.

The older man moved with a steady pace, being careful not to hurt the younger man by accidentally, and moved his finger in and out for a while, loosening John up bit by bit, until he figured he was loose enough for another. When he started pushing in a second along with the third, John groaned from low in his throat and started moving with him, pushing back against his digits to hurry things along. Encouraged, Paul sped up his movements and scissored his fingers inside the younger man to stretch him further before adding another. Once he got John to rock back against his fingers, he pulled out, making John groan in frustration. Paul quickly shushed him with another kiss to his temple and started guiding his erection to John’s opening, rubbing up and down it first to give John a moment to prepare, before he started to guide John’s hips down onto him. The younger man groaned as he felt himself being stretched.

“Oh fuck…” he moaned and Paul could only nod in return, his mind going fuzzy with the tight feeling of John around him: hot, velvety and wet.

“God… you’re prefect,” he huffed and John chuckled in return for a moment as he leaned down and kissed Paul, hoping it would take his mind off the uncomfortableness of having something so big inside of him. It had been a while since he had anything as big as that inside of him. Once Paul was in all the way, he let out a deep sigh against his lips and held still for a moment, before he started to tentatively raise up his hips, allowing Paul’s cock to slide out, before forcing himself back down, groaning at the uncomfortable, yet pleasurable stretch. Paul dug his fingers into John’s hips to hold on to as he bit his lip to keep himself from thrusting up into him, the tightness being too much.

“Fuck, John…” he moaned, “hurry up. Please…” John nodded and bit his lip as he repeated the movement, going slowly as he rolled his hips, searching for that one spot that would help. Paul tried to help by holding him up, but still it took them about a minute, before Paul’s cock hit that spot inside of him that had him gasping out for air.

“Oh yes!” He moaned and Paul groaned as John suddenly started to speed up his movements, going faster and faster with longer strokes as he sat up a bit more and arched his back, his hands leaning on Paul’s stomach to keep his balance.

Paul couldn’t look away from the young boy above him, riding him at a steady pace as he pleasured himself, his muscles pulled taught as he worked, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled, and his eyes screwed closed in concentration as he bit his lip. Paul caressed his body with his hands, as he started to move his hips with John, matching his rhythm as they fell into one that was not to slow and not too fast, just perfect and fast enough to bring them both pleasure, but not enough to make them come too soon. It was perfect and neither of them wanted it to end, loving the feeling of being so close again after so long. After a while, however, Paul couldn’t take it anymore, John’s lips being too inviting to ignore and before he realised what he was doing exactly, he had pulled John down to him and pressed their lips together again, forcing his tongue into his mouth as he kissed the younger man, tasting him and letting himself be consumed by him. Nothing had ever felt as good as this.

“Paul…” John moaned after a couple of minutes, pulling back from Paul’s lips to gasp for air as he sped up his thrusts, rolling his hips expertly to make it all as smooth as possible for the both of them. “I… I can’t… do this… much longer. I’m close.”

“I know. Me too,” Paul managed to croak out, forcing his eyes open to stare into John’s dark brown once as he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against him. Their movements slowed rather than sped up and John didn’t even have to ask or Paul had already moved his hand down between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around his erection, stroking it gently yet expertly as he brought his lover closer and closer to his orgasm, feeling his own approach. John’s groaning was a constant murmur in his ear that got louder and louder as his orgasm neared, until finally he came, murmuring Paul’s name as little plea as he shuddered and trembled in Paul’s arms, his arse pulling at the cock inside of him, his muscles massaging him and pulling Paul’s orgasm out of him as well. He gasped when he felt the sticky substance coat his insides, only then realising the condom was still lying beside them on the bed, forgotten in their wantonness and longing for the other. John opened his mouth to say something witty about it, but before he even had the change, Paul had already kissed him again. It wasn’t so important anyway.

          The first thing John felt when he woke up the following morning, was Paul’s hot breath against the back of his neck, tickling him there. Then he realised the older man had both his arms wrapped firmly around him, pulling him against his chest in a way that was almost possessive, and John couldn’t help but smile at that, his heart fluttering at the feeling of waking up next to someone again. Next to Paul.

Wanting to enjoy this moment, he closed his eyes and snuggled up against the older man, wanting to feel him around him for a while longer. Now they still could. He wasn’t sure what last night had meant, other than that it had been perfect and great. The sex itself, of course, but also the moments afterwards and between. They made love three times in total, snuggling and drinking wine and eating cheese and crisps in bed between sessions as they laughed and talked and snuggled in silence, stealing kisses when they could until they had fallen asleep.

He hoped it had meant more than just reliving the old times. He hoped Paul really did love him, like he had told him many times last night, and that this wouldn’t be the end of them. He wanted to see Paul again, to wake up like this every morning if they could without the worry of someone walking in on them. But would Paul want the same? He was sad to say, he couldn’t be sure.

After about another twenty minutes of lying in bed, John started to get a little restless, his worries getting too much, and started to untangle himself from Paul’s limbs.  They were firmly wrapped around him and every time John had managed to free himself from one arm or leg, another wrapped itself back around him. After a few failed attempts, however, John managed to escape his eager hands. He picked up his underwear and pulled on Paul’s robe that hung from the door, before he slipped out, leaving Paul to sleep a while longer.

He slipped into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea to start the day, before he moved on to the living room, where he walked around the room for a while, looking around at pictures of family and friends – both old and new - at the books on Paul’s bookshelves, the numerous pieces of paper with lyrics and poems on them, until he finally came by the piano. He placed his mug of tea on top of it, and slid behind it, raising his fingers to lightly press a few of the keys, wincing at how loud it was. Finally, he stopped, fearing he’d wake up Paul, and went to skim through the hundreds of pieces of paper on the piano. Most of it was sheet music – simplified by using mostly chords and short descriptions of movements, as Paul couldn’t actually read music. One piece of paper in particular, though, caught his eye. He recognised it right away, even though he hadn’t seen it in years, and picked it up with trembling fingers. It was Stuart’s drawing of him that he had given to Paul for his birthday. He had kept it. After all these years, he had kept it.

“I never thought I’d wake up to find a handsome 22-year-old walking around in my robe,” Paul’s voice came from behind him and John jumped a little in surprise, before he turned around to find Paul leaning against the doorway, wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and a simple white shirt. His hair was messy and he still looked sleepy, with a little grin on his lips.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” he asked, and Paul shrugged in reply.

“I was already awake. I just heard you playing.”

“Did you like it?” John asked and Paul laughed at that.

“I would have liked it better if you had played an actual song, but you were fine,” he said and John turned back to the piano, placing the drawing back on the piano before placing his hands on the keys where he started to play a cute little tune. From behind him, he could hear Paul walking over to him, his bare feet patting over the wooden flooring. He shuffled over on the seat so Paul had enough room to sit down next to him and join him.

“I liked yesterday,” John confessed as they played together, feeling how his heart was pounding in his chest as he waited for a response. Paul was silent for a while, only staring down at their hands, before he finally spoke.

“I did too,” he said, but John could sense a “but” coming. It didn’t come though. Instead, he asks about the drawing. “You found it, then? Stuart’s drawing?”

“I though Julia had thrown it out. She did that with a lot of stuff,” John confessed, but Paul shook his head.

“No. I managed to take it before she kicked me out. I… I couldn’t just leave it, you know.”

“And you kept it.”

“I did.”

“Do you really still love me?”

“I do,” Paul answered, but his face looked tense, which made John worry, “but I know what you’re going to say and we can’t, John.” Whoops! There it was. The “but”. John abruptly stopped playing.

“Why not?” he asked, the words coming out more aggressively than he would have liked. Paul didn’t seem too fazed by it.

“You know why,” he said and John scoffed.

“Let me guess. It’s illegal, you’re too old, people will find out, bla bla bla.”

“John-“

“You do know I don’t care about any of those things, don’t you?

“John, luv, I _am_ too old. In four years I’ll be fifty and you’ll be half my age! And besides, we both have our separate lives now. You have college, your friends… we haven’t seen each other in three years! A lot has changed, John. _We_ have changed.”

“Then we’ll start over. Right here in London. We’ll go out, date and have fun. No one needs to know. And you know I don’t care about your damn age! I love you and you’ll still be you whatever age you are!”

“John, I was already dating my first fiancée when you were born!”

“And I don’t give a fuck!”

“John, we can’t!”

“And why not? Give me one good reason!” John demanded and Paul sighed at that, his shoulders slumping, and for a moment John thought he had actually won, but then, Paul took a deep breath and turned his head to look at him, locking eyes.

“I’m moving away.” John stared at the older man at that, his brain taking a while to figure out what that sentence exactly meant.

“M-moving?” he asked and Paul nodded, “To where?!”

“To Scotland. I… I bought a farm. Like you told me to do.”

“But… but when?”

“In two months.”

“Then… then I’ll come with you-“

“No!” Paul interrupted him right away, taking John by surprise. “You have your life here, John. You finally got into college, you have an apartment, great friends, you’re happy. You cannot simply give that up. Not for me.”

“I’d like to make the choice myself, you know,” John tried, but Paul shook his head, looking away from him and back down at the piano, where his fingers started to play a tune that was both out of rhythm and tune.

“We cannot do it, John. We never could. Perhaps… perhaps it’s best if you just got up and got dressed. We could have breakfast and part on good terms and-“

“Paul… I don’t want to leave you,” John said and Paul glanced at him briefly, before he looked away with a sigh and got up. John tried reaching out for him, but the older man was already too far away.

“I’m sorry, John,” he said and started walking away, leaving John alone behind the piano. For a moment, John could only watch him, but then suddenly, something snapped. He pushed the stool back and turned around to face Paul, allowing the stool to fall back and clatter onto the ground. Paul turned his head in surprise at the sound.

“You’re a fucking coward, Paul!” John shouted as stared at him, “You know that? You’re a fucking coward. Always saying no and running away when things get too difficult or too emotional or too much for you. All because you’re too scared. Because you’d rather not deal at all than work for what you want. For what makes you happy. You’re such a fucking coward. It’s pathetic, really.” Paul stared back at him for a moment, his expression blank, before his body tensed as John’s words got through to him, turning his expression sour.

“You’re such a cunt sometimes, John. I swear,” he sneered and started to turn around again to walk away, but when John scoffed in return, he continued, “Don’t you think this is difficult for me, John? To keep saying ‘no’. To keep refusing. I _love_ you, John. Fucking hell, I do. You _know_ I do. You have no idea how much I’d rather be with you, to just say fuck all to the world, but we _can’t_!”

“Then just stop saying ‘no’!” John shouted back, but now Paul scoffed, thinking such a simple suggestion was ridiculous. “I’m serious, Paul. The only reason why you keep saying no is because you’re afraid. Of getting caught, of being let down, of what other people think, just like at the funeral! You’re a coward, Paul. You’re afraid to take what you want and what will make you happy. But if you would just stop saying ‘no’. If you’d stop running away…”

“It’s not as easy as that, John. It’s not just about that,” Paul muttered angrily.

“Then what, Paul? What are you so afraid of?” John asked.

“You want to know what I’m afraid of? I’m afraid of   _you_ , John!”

“Me?!”

“Yes, because I’ve never loved anyone like I loved you, and I’d love to just be with you, but that’s stupid. You’re young, clever, handsome. I’m old. It will only be a matter of time before you’ll find someone else. Before you’ll find someone younger, someone of your own age who will fascinate you and inspire you and make you feel things you’ve never felt before and you’ll realise that I’m don’t. That I’m just an old dude with a stupid farm in Scotland who you once thought you loved because the idea of a relationship was so exciting, dangerous and illegal, but that now - now we’re save and comfortable – that is gone. You’ll realise you don’t love me, John. You’ll leave me. You’ll stop looking at me in that way you always look at me, because you’re love will fade and I will have to see that happening and finally watch you leave to be happy with someone else and I don’t think I can do that. I… I _can’t_ lose you. Not like that.”

Both stayed quiet at that for a while, Paul looking down at the floor as he bit back tears, and John stared at Paul with wide eyes, not having expected such a confession. He was unsure of what to do, what to do, or how to act, not being used to having Paul be like this. Not with him. He felt guilty, for yelling at Paul and calling him names. He decided that was a good place to start.

“Paul…” he started, but the older man shook his head at him, taking a step back and further away from John. “Paul, I… I’m sorry… for saying all that. I… I…”

“Just leave it, John. You know I’m right. So let’s just skip everything and make this as painless as possible, okay?”

“Paul, dear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

“You say that now-“

“I _won’t._ I _do_ love you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone. Not before you, not while we were together, and not in the last three years. Paul, when I saw you at the pub last night, I didn’t think about how sexy you looked, or how good the sex was, or how excited the sneaking around was, or any of that. I thought about talking to you. I wanted to talk to you, to just hear your voice, to hear you laugh and say my name and call me silly and rude names. I just… wanted to be around you, to do silly things and laugh and joke around and play guitar and cuddle on the couch. I didn’t want sex, I wanted _you_. Paul, you need to stop being so afraid. You need to stop running away. Because I’m not going anywhere. The person you talk about would have to be perfect to steal me away from you, and even then I’d miss all your little imperfections. I’d miss our arguments even! I’d miss _you_.” 

Slowly, he started moving towards him, shuffling forward as not to startle Paul. He held his breath when he moved, and even when he was finally standing before him again, he couldn’t bring himself to make a sound, afraid Paul would turn away and run. Instead, he carefully raised his hand, bringing it up and sweetly cupping the older man’s scruffy cheek in his palm, feeling the roughness and caressing him there, feeling how he leaned into the touch and his body relaxed.

“I love you, Paul,” he whispered finally and Paul opened his eyes to look up at him, his eyes being puffy and red as if he was about to cry. The only thing John could think of doing, was kissing him, so that’s what he did. Just a simple peck, before he wrapped his arms around Paul’s body and pulled him into a hug, shocked to feel how much Paul was actually trembling.

“We can work this out together, Macca. We can do this, the two of us.”

“But… But even then… I’m still moving. I… I can’t live in London anymore, John. I need to go someplace else. Scotland, like you always said. But  I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“You won’t have to ask me, Paul,” John said and Paul pulled back at that, not understanding what John meant with that. The younger man smiled at his confusion and stroked his cheek before he explained.

“I’ll commute.”

“Commute?!”

“Yeah. You go live in Scotland at the farm and I stay here in London until I’ve finished university. We’ll make it long distance and I’ll come up to visit whenever I can: Long weekends, holidays, when I don’t feel like going… And then I’ll come live with you after I graduate. It will be fun.”

“And you think that will work?” Paul asked, a little smile returning to his face at the thought that this wasn’t going to be the end of them, and John was glad to see it. He nodded in reply.

“Sure it will!”

“But what about other people, John? What if they’ll suspect something? Two men living at a farm together? We can’t pass for father and son, since people do actually know us,” Paul asked and John thought about it for a while before he came up with an idea.

“You’ll hire me. As staff to work at the farm in exchange for food and lodging. We’ll tell them the truth: I live with this guy who was going to be my stepdad before my Mum passed away in an accident and work for him as he provides me with food and a place to sleep and some money. It will be perfect, because I’ll have a place to write too! You could even hire more people during busy times to make it less suspicious. No one will think anything off it!”

“I… I don’t know, John,” Paul said, but John barely listened to him, already being too excited for the plan he had come up with.

“It will be perfect, Paul. We can do this. You need to stop worrying about others and live your life for once, or else you will be alone and miserable at fifty,”  he said with a cheeky wink and Paul couldn’t help but laugh at that, and finally nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” he said as he took a deep breath, “let’s do it.” The words hadn’t yet been fully uttered or John had jumped him again, wrapping his legs around Paul’s waist as he kissed him and hugged him close, his arms around his neck. Paul gasped at the sudden weight, but managed to hold John up as he let himself be kissed, now feeling incredibly happy that this was not going to be the end for them. For once, the game seemed to be in their favour, and Paul hoped it would remain that way.

* * *

 

Life, it seemed, was a funny thing. Every day was filled with hundreds of little opportunities, little chances that you could take and that would shape your life in whatever way was possible. Most of the time those changes were small, making little difference at first, and some would grow out to change your life in drastic ways, while other were just temporary pleasures or disappointments, most of which you would forget in an instance. Sometimes, however, the chances were grand. They would come without warning, and you could either take them, or let them pass you by. When you let them pass by, nothing much would change, life would go on as usual and you probably wouldn’t even realise it had passed, but if you took them…

Paul found it hard to believe what he knew had happened between him and John just a few hours ago. He was sitting on the couch, staring in front of him at a blank wall with his mouth agape in a mixture of shock, excitement and confusion. John had only just left; they had had fallen back into bed together for one last time, before they had taken a shower together and had breakfast, during which they had made their plans before John had gotten his stuff and left. Plans! Paul could hardly believe it. He had dreamed about this, but had always woken up thinking it was a far-fetched idea that could never be real. But it was real. John and him – John and Paul – was reality.

After he had visited Julia’s funeral and had gone back home without even so much a word to the boy, he had told himself it was over. He had missed his opportunity and he’d never see John again. He had never thought he’d walk into John in London – the great city, what were the odds? – let alone speak with him, kiss him, and love him again. For a three years he had believed this. For three years, he had thought he would never love John again, never see his face again, and then, just yesterday, he had seen him after so long. They had talked, they had kissed, they had made love, and now they were actually planning on taking this further – further than it had ever been: a relationship. A real one, without any other lovers or fiancées. Just them. It was rather unbelievable.

The thought worried him, though. He couldn’t help it. Those same fears John had told him to let go off, were still nagging at him - at his heart - telling him he could never have that happiness, that he didn’t deserve it, that people would find out, that John would leave him… He tried to do as John had told him to do, and let go. It was easier said than done, however, but he’d try. For John. For them. For himself.

Because his life was finally getting better. The breakup with both Julia and John hadn’t been easy on him. He hadn’t told John that, as he didn’t want him to feel bad for him and pity him, or blame himself, or feel weird about it. He didn’t need to know how hard life he had been when he had first come back to London. He didn’t need to know that he had struggled to pull himself together as he started to realise how much he had lost and what it meant. He didn’t need to know that he had struggled to find a job, an apartment, and a new life in general. He didn’t need to know how broken-up he had been when he had heard about Julia’s death, how he had, much like John, blamed himself, and how he had started to drink, heavily. He didn’t need to know how much worse it had gotten after the funeral, when he had thought it was all over and he’d never have the younger man with him ever again. He didn’t need to know about all the horrible memories that London held for him. Because that was behind him now; none of it mattered. All that mattered now was John and him and their future. Together.

 _Together_. Such a ordinary word, and yet it brought a wide smile to his face like nothing else had done in the last few years. It made him forget all about those last few years, about all the sad times, and only focus on the future, think about it in amazement and wonder. He hoped John and he were going to make it. He still wasn’t completely sure how John was thinking they could manage the long distance thing. From the moment they had met, they had been on each other’s lips, always being in the same house, living every day of their lives together and now… now Paul was going to move to Scotland, and live on a farm in Kintyre, while John would be over 500 miles away in London! They would call, write and John would come visit when he could, and Paul would do the same for one and a half years while John stayed at university. One and a half years was a long time. No matter how easy John made it seem, with how much ease he spoke about it, the trip from London to Kintyre would take over ten hours if he drove. By train, Paul wasn’t sure how long he’d take, but it couldn’t be much shorter, and then he’d still have to get on the island. A flight would be quick, but expensive (as any other means of transportation from London to Kintyre) and still be time consuming, when one would take the waiting time into consideration. That it wasn’t going to be easy, was a bit of an understatement in Paul’s mind.

But John seemed determined. He didn’t want to give up and Paul was glad he wasn’t asking Paul to stay in London. He knew Paul needed to leave the city and go somewhere else. He knew how long Paul had wanted this and how much it meant to him, and didn’t want to take that away from him, even if it meant he was going to have to travel for however long and spend so much money to go visit him and see him. And then they hadn’t even talked about the periods in between. It wasn’t like John would just be able to come over every other weekend, with them being so far apart, and John needing to attend university and thus not having many holidays. It was bound to be hard on them, and Paul hoped that the time they would manage to have together, would be enough for them to make it through the first one and a half years. One thing, he knew for sure, though: they were going to try their best and fight for it. Perhaps they could make it work. Perhaps, that would be enough for them to make it.

With that feeling of hope, Paul picked up his acoustic that stood beside the couch and placed it in his lap. He made sure it was perfectly in tune, before he started to play a little tune, hoping that by doing so he would let go of his worries and _live_ , like John had told him to do. He allowed himself to dream and fantasise about living in Scotland with John, on their own little farm, with a couple of animals, just enough for them to manage and leave them with enough time to enjoy each other.

          The apartment was still quiet when John sneaked inside, being sure to let the door fall close behind him with only the slightest thud, in case Eric was still fast asleep in his bed, which the lazy bastard would often do when he didn’t have any classes that day. To his surprise, however, Eric wasn’t asleep. Instead, he found him on their couch, going through the channels on the telly with the sound off.

“What are you doing?” John asked as he threw his bag aside in a corner and kicked off his shoes, no longer bothering with staying quiet new he knew his friend was awake. Eric, however, jumped up from the couch at the sound of him and pressed his fingers to his lips as he nodded into the direction of his bedroom. Right away, John understood. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“Who is the lucky fellow?” he teased in a hushed voice, and Eric rolled his eyes as he sat back down on the couch, turning his gaze back on the telly where some dusty newsreader was saying stuff neither of them could hear.

“As if you really care. Where were you anyway? You never stay away from home. I was kind of worried, I have to say,” Eric said as he still continued watching the old newsreader, seemingly not bothered by the lack of sound. John shuffled over at him as he bit his lip, realising then that he hadn’t even let him know he wasn’t coming home.

“Yeah, I er… I probably should have called,” he said as he took a seat on the armrest of the couch, wincing in discomfort as he did so, still being sore from last night and that morning, not being used to having sex that often in such a short period of time anymore. Eric, however, choice exactly that moment to glance up at him and thus noticed, his own lips now matching John’s little smirk with one of their own.

“Who?” he simply asked, and for a moment John considered being coy about it and leaving the man wondering, but as soon as they word had been progressed in his brain, his lips had curled up in a love-struck smile, causing his friend to sit up in his chair, clearly eager to hear more. “Tell me!”

“It’s no one,” John tried anyway, but his expression had already given him away.

“No way, John. You’re not getting away. Not this time. You haven’t had a date in ages! Besides, I thought you were with Maddie yesterday.”

“Well, I was. I just… ran into someone.”

“Oh, God! Don’t tell me it’s Peter. You know I hate Peter,” Eric asked, practically clawing with his hands at John’s thighs as he moved close to him, as if that would make John tell him sooner, but all it did was make him chuckle.

“It’s not Peter,” John said with a smirk, enjoying his friend’s excitement.

“Who then?”

“Paul,” John heard himself say and he held his breath as he waited for a respond from his friend, being unsure how he would react. He hadn’t been completely opposed to their relationship three years ago, and John hoped he wouldn’t be now, but he couldn’t be sure. Eric sat in silence for a moment as he stared at John, eyes blinking up at him as his mind worked hard to process it.

Still, after almost a minute, all he had come up with to say was: “Paul?” John nodded. “As in our Paul? Your Paul? Paul McCartney, the guy who almost married your mother, Paul? That Paul?” John nodded again. “The Paul who’s twenty-five years older than you, Paul?”

“Yes! That Paul!” John finally exclaimed, feeling his nerves getting to him. Eric fell silent at his sudden outburst and nodded in understanding as he looked down at the couch, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. John sighed at that and slid down the armrest to sit next to him, their legs and hips touching fully. Eric didn’t make any attempt to move away, though, for which John was glad in a way.

“I ran into him at the pub. We got talking and he bought me dinner.”

“And that was it? Just like that?” Eric asked, and John bit his lip as he shook his head.

“We talked. It’s not like we just fell into bed together right away. He er… he explained himself. I explained myself. It felt good to talk and then he admitted that he still loved him and well…”

“John-“ Eric started in a soft, careful voice, but John interrupted him immediately, having a fairly good idea what his friend was going to say.

“It’s not like that!” he tried, but Eric didn’t listen.

“I can’t believe you had sex with him – multiple times by the looks of it – after all that happened! Have you forgotten how broken up you were about him. Hell, _are_ about him?”

“I know, but it’s not like that! I still love him. He still loves me. In fact… we er…”

“You what?” Eric asked, sounding like he feared the worst. John shrugged before answering.

“We’re going to start over,” he explained and Eric’s jaw dropped the floor at that.

“You’re what?!”

“We’re starting over. Paul… he’s moving to Scotland in a few months and I’m going with him. Not immediately, of course, but… after I’ve finished university, I’ll come after him. He bought a farm and we’re going to live on it together and start over. I can write there.”

“John, dear, you know I love you, but do you have any idea how fucking daft you sound right now? Start over? Live together? On a farm in Scotland? What are you thinking?!”

“I know it sounds stupid. I know it does, but… We can do this. I… I can’t lose him. Not again. Not after having been miserable without for over three years – you know I have been. I finally have him again, Eric! I can’t just give that up!”

“It’s not that easy, John. Nothing is as simple as that. What are you going to do those two years you’re still in university? You’ll be hundreds of hours apart and more importantly: you have your life here.”

“Yes, and I’ll rebuild it again there. Eric… I can’t just let this pass me by. I thought I had lost him forever, and now I’ve found him again. I still love him. I know I do. I could feel it. I’m not going to give up on this. I don’t need you to be okay with this, I don’t need your blessing and I’m not asking for it, but I would like your support as a friend. The next one and a half years… it’s going to be tough. I know they will be. Paul will be hours away from me, and we won’t see each other often, but I want to try! I want to give this a shot and see where it leads. I _have_ to. I need to see if we can make it. If we can’t, then I will have to deal with that, but at least I’ll _know._ And what if it does work out?” John looked Eric deeply in the eye as he spoke, needing to get this through to the other’s head, because no one – not even Eric – was going to change his mind on this. Eric stared back at him, his eyes moving rapidly across his face as he studied every little feature on his face. Finally, he sighed and nodded.

“Fine,” he said, “fine, I get it. I know how much you love him, John. You know I just want you to be happy, but dammit, please don’t hurt yourself. Please, know what you’re getting into because I don’t want to see you hurt like that again and this can end pretty ugly if you’re not careful.” John smiled at that and nodded, happy to have his friend’s support. He knew Eric was right. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how dangerous it was. He knew that if things didn’t go right between him and Paul, it would be even harder on them, because then it would be their own fault; they’d have no one else to blame. That would just mean the end. And if people would find out about them… It could end up really ugly, but for some reason, John felt like he and Paul would be fine. Something told him they would be. They were just _right_.

“Thanks, mate,” John said as he pulled his friend in for a firm hug, and Eric smiled into it as he hugged him back, whispering he loved him and that he’d be there for him in his ear. When John pulled away, John chuckled at their stupidity.

“Now, enough with this stupid whiny stuff. You still have to tell me who’s in your bedroom,” John said with a little wink and Eric laughed at that as his cheeks flushed a light pink.

“It’s err… there’s no one, actually. I er… I adopted a cat.”

“A cat?!”

“Yes, and he finally fell asleep on my bed after a whole night, so I don’t want to accidentally wake him up. He’s a little nervous.”

“Can I see him?”

“If you’re quite,” Eric replied with a shrug and with that, John let out a enthusiastic yelp as he wrapped his arms firmly around his friend’s neck and hugged him tightly again, perhaps even tighter than before, since he almost ended up choking him.

“You’re the best goddamn roommate and friend I’ve ever had!” he exclaimed and Eric burst out in laughter. Before he could say anything in return however, John had already pulled away from him and was standing by the door, gently pushing it open as he gaze inside, his eyes wide with excitement of seeing their new pet.

“Remember, John: he’s my cat!” Eric called, but John only waved him away.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We’ll see, shall we,” he said before slipping inside. He didn’t come back out again for most of the day.

          For the rest of the months they still had together, John and Paul tried to get together as much as possible, wanting to make the most of it before they’d be separated for such a long time. Paul would move in February, meaning John would only be able to visit him again around May, which meant they were going to spend three months apart, which they both knew was going to be tough. It was kind of  the make or break part of their relationship: if they managed to keep in contact and remain excited, they would be fine, but if they didn’t, it wouldn’t mean much good for their future. Still, John and Paul both tried to remain positive that they would make it, even if it was somewhat harder for Paul, who was still worrying about John maybe losing interest while he was gone and finding someone else, but John had promised him he wouldn’t so many times that he had almost started to believe it.

These first few months of their new relationships were strange. There was already so much history between them, and yet, everything was so new at the same time. When Paul first picked him up to go on a date together, John had felt incredibly nervous and had tried on twenty different outfits, before he had dragged Eric and Maddie to the shops with him to find him something new instead. He had been a nervous rack while he had waited for Paul to pick him up, sitting knelt by the door with hopeful eyes as he bit his nails, and then when Paul finally rang the doorbell, waiting for him to ring a second time before letting him in, as he didn’t want it to seem like he had been waiting for him like a pathetic puppy waiting for their owner – which he had been, but that didn’t matter. It was ridiculous how nervous they both had been while Paul had driven them to the theatre where they’d watch a film together – with Audrey Hepburn because she was fantastic – and then again during the movie, being even too nervous to touch each other. John had even forgotten to invite him back to his place after, something about which he had beaten himself up all throughout the night after Paul had dropped him off.

But with every date they had, it had gone better and better. Eventually, it had been more fun than nerve-wracking and both of them had started to relax. They had started to truly enjoy themselves and the dates became less forced and more natural. During Christmas, they couldn’t see each other, as John was going back to Liverpool to see his aunt and sister again, as well as Cynthia, whom he hadn’t seen in quite some time and who he had truly missed. It had been great to see them all again, but it had been even better when he had returned some days later to celebrate New Year’s with Paul, getting drunk on champagne together and trying to match their orgasms with the count-down of the year (Paul came about three seconds too soon, but John had somehow managed to time it perfectly). It had been great and too soon February came, and thus Paul’s moving date.

Being the good boyfriend that he was, John helped Paul pack and prepare, and even went with him to help him unpack there and paint a few things in the house. They had driven there by car and although the drive had been exhausting – it being over twelve hours long with breaks – it had been great fun, like their own little road trip, kind of like they had had when they had gone on holiday together, but now with just the two of them. John had a few days off from school as he had worked hard to make sure he was ahead on his work, and was glad he had managed it, being excited to see the farm.

Seeing as they got there in February, it was rather cold in Kintyre, and there was still some snow lying around the place, making the drive over there more difficult. They got onto the peninsula with the ferry, and both men were astonished by the beauty of the place. The snow sparkled as it covered the hilly, yet flat ground, stretching even over the sand at the coast. There were only a few towns, most of the peninsula being long stretches of nature with the occasional desolate house or farm which they passed on the way. Occasionally, they would pass a ruin or a lake or a castle. It was gorgeous to see and both men were more than happy to stay quiet and take in the view until they had reached Paul’s farm. John couldn’t wait to see how gorgeous it would look in summer and autumn.

The farm itself wasn’t particularly special. It was what one would expect of a farm, but then a little bit smaller. The main house was a single story home, with a grand kitchen, two cosy living rooms, and three bedrooms (one of which, John had decided, would become his writing room once he had settled in as well). It came with a barn, some stables, a separate vegetable plot, and quite some acres of land, but not too much for the older man to handle. Just enough for a horse or two, some chickens, and a couple of sheep. The house itself was dated, but nothing they couldn’t fix with some paint and a new wooden floors. Frankly, though, it was perfect.

They worked on the house together in the next few days, stripping it off all the wood, wallpaper, carpets and rotten flooring, before doing it all up again. It was hard and trying work, but fun as well. It was nice to simple be together for a while and work on something that would mean so much for them in their future. Paul loved seeing the house come alive with every lick of paint, every new roll of wallpaper and every new piece of second hand furniture they put it place, and John loved to see what it did to the older man, who much he smiled and lit up at the sight of his home – his own perfect little farm – becoming beautiful again. Once they had done up the master bedroom, and had made it practically perfect, they took a day off to enjoy it to the fullest, only ever leaving it for food and drinks.

Too soon their last week together was over and John needed to leave again. For a moment he was tempted to just stay and live with Paul and give up on university, but he knew that would be stupid and that Paul wouldn’t agree to that. They made plans for his next visit in May, and had their last breakfast together, before Paul drove him back to the mainland and to the nearest train station that would take him back to London. The goodbye was tough, neither of them knowing for sure John would ever return.

The trip home was the hardest for John, knowing that Paul was alone in his little farm now and that he wouldn’t see him again until that May. He was already missing him, but he knew that was a good thing. He knew that the wait was going to be worth it. He and Paul would make it. He would write him every week, call him as often as he could and think about him every day as he did his best at school, wanting to make Paul proud. He hadn’t even left Scotland, or he had already pulled some paper from his bag and started writing his first letter, letting Paul know exactly how he felt and hoping he felt the same. Not two days after he had send it, he got a reply back, which he answered right away, only to get another reply back, and so it went on for months, each sending a letter back as soon as they got it.

The first month was the hardest. For both of them, but especially for John. He missed going to visit Paul whenever he wanted, and often found himself walking over to his old apartment after classes out of habit. He missed waking up next to him and just being able to see him and hear his voice. The phone calls became more and more frequent, often lasting for hours at the time. Sometimes, whenever Paul had written a new song, he’d call John in the early morning before his classes and let him hear it. John longed for those times, loving just to close his eyes and listen to the older man play, pretending he was right there in the room with him.

Paul, at least, still had the farm that needed work. Although he and John had gotten far, there was a lot of work to do, leaving with little time to just sit down and reflect. He liked being busy, though, as it made being away from John easier. Still, he missed him, and often found himself speaking to him out of habit or wishing he was there to help with someone. The longer he was at the farm, though, the lonelier he became, so he quickly hired someone to help him out. The second month had only just started before he talked to John about it and John suggested he’d get a dog. So that’s what Paul did. He got a dog. A sheepdog puppy called Martha, always having loved the idea of getting a big dog to cuddle with. She was perfect and he would often gush about her to John, which then made John eager to get back to meet her in person.

That’s how those three months past, both men eager to see each other again and calling and sending letter to each other every chance they had. They worked hard and slowly but surely, they got used to being alone more and more. But then, May came close and closer and finally it was time for John to go back to Scotland. He went by train, stopping on the way to visit Mimi and Jules and say hello to Cynthia, before moving on to Scotland, where Paul picked him up. It was the moment they first looked at each other again, John stepping out of the train, suitcase in hand, and Paul waiting for him, his adorable and quickly growing puppy on a leash, that they knew they had made the right choice. They were going to make it. They were certain off it, and when John needed to leave again by the end of the summer, he did so with a lighter heart, feeling certain he would be there again for New Year’s, and then again sometime between January and May and then at the end of the school year, when he had finally finished university. They were going to be fine. He just knew it, and Paul, he knew it too.  


	35. Chapter 35

They arrived at King’s Cross Station early that morning, three of them carrying a suitcase each, as the other checked the boards to see what platform they needed to be at. It was busy, with people running in and out and from platform to platform, hurrying to catch their train to work, pushing past people as they muttered excuses, most of the time struggling to keep their coffee from spilling. John watched them with annoyance, not even bothering with the polite excuses as people bumped into him with irritated glances. He switched his suitcase to his left hand to give his right some time to rest and glanced at one of the larger clocks that hung all the way at the back of the station. 7.46 it read. John groaned at the prospect of needing to wait another 47 minutes for his own train. He had known they were going to be too early, but of course Eric had insisted they would leave early, just in case.

“Platform eight, guys! The train to Edinburgh leaves from there,” the man in question said, turning back around to them with a wide smile on his face, looking pleased with himself.

“Can’t we get something to eat or drink first? We still have about 50 minutes until it leaves and I don’t feel like just standing there, waiting,” Maddie suggested, but before anyone could agree to that, Eric had shook his head “no” and started walking into the direction of platform eight, giving the others no choice but to follow him.  John hurried over to catch up with him and the two girls followed closely behind them.

Maddie was talking to Jules as they pulled their suitcases along behind them, listening to everything she had to say about school, her new cat (she was as much of a cat lover as her brother was), her friends, the film she and John had gone to see yesterday evening, and this new band she had started listening to, by the name of The Rolling Stones, claiming they were the best she had ever heard (apart from her brother, of course).  John listened to them talk, liking how well they got on together.

He had missed his sister, not having been able to see much of her since he had moved to London, and even less so when he started to visit Paul in Kintyre every chance he had, instead of visiting her in Liverpool. Thus, when Mimi had suggested she’d stay with him for a few weeks after his graduation, he had been more than eager to accept. It had been a great couple of weeks together, her presence giving him something to focus on as he counted the days he would finally catch the train to Scotland, and go live with Paul.

Those weeks had been hard too, he had to admit. Paul had been there for his graduation, having travelled all the way from Campbeltown, Kintyre to London just for him. He had stayed for two days at Eric and John’s apartment, before he had had to leave again, and although it had been great to see him and have him in the audience when he was awarded with his degree, two days had been too short. Especially seeing as they rarely had time to be on their own, with Mimi, Jules and Cynthia having come down to London for his graduation as well, which left John missing Paul even more than he normally would when either one had to leave.

To have Paul attend his graduation had been wonderful, though. Paul hadn’t said anything about coming to London for it, and John had been surprised when he had suddenly turned up at his door, a small overnight bag clutched in his hand. At first, John had only been able to stare at him in disbelieve, before he had jumped at him and kissed him right there and then, not caring if any of his neighbours saw, his arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he pulled him inside their apartment. Paul had laughed into his mouth as he had kissed him back, taking his younger lover in his arms, and John had savoured the sound of his laughter, liking how happy it could make him. John and Eric had just been having some cheap take-out and when Paul had told him he hadn’t eaten yet, he had offered Paul half of his own without as much as a second thought. That night, they had made love in silence, not wanting to freak Eric out too much who was separated from them by only one single thin wall. He hadn’t complained about it that following day, so John had figured they had been quiet enough.

During the graduation ceremony itself, however, things had gotten a bit more awkward. Paul had been in the audience, watching his lover with a proud smile as he went through the formalities and did his bit, after which he was awarded his degree. But Mimi had been in the audience as well, together with Jules and Cynthia - Stuart hadn’t managed to come, still having school himself in Hamburg - which wouldn’t have been that terrible, if it had not been for the fact that Mimi had recognised him, and had been keeping a close eye on him out of distrust.

After the ceremony, John had first gone to Paul to inform him about his aunt and asked him what they should do. Mimi, however, had noticed him going over to Paul right away and had dragged Jules and Cynthia with her towards the two men. Paul, to John’s surprise, had been calm at the news and had openly greeted Mimi, shaking her hand and congratulating her with her nephew, saying how proud so must be. Mimi had shaken his hand coolly, before she had demanded him to tell her what he was doing at John’s graduation. The directness had unnerved Paul, and John had noticed how tense Paul had gotten at the somewhat hostile tone of her voice, but he had smiled in return as he told her he had met John in a pub not long ago and John had invited him to come. In fact, he had added, John was coming up to Scotland to live with him for a while. Mimi had been taken aback by this statement, but Paul had taken his time to explain the situation according to the story he and John had come up with a year and a half before, and Mimi had actually bought it, which John hadn’t expected. In the end she had even seemed rather pleased.

They had all gone out to dinner together, and at the end of the night, she had come with the suggestion to leave Jules with her brother, after which John suggested she could come with him to Scotland, saying she’d love the farm. That is, if she wanted to of course. Before Mimi had even had time to object, Jules had already agreed to come, eager for a holiday and to spend some time with her brother. Paul had been a bit reluctant at first, but when John had squeezed his thigh under the table to say it would be alright, he had agreed to let her come as well and now here they were: at King’s Cross Station in the early morning, ready the catch the train and follow Paul up north.

Once they had reached the platform, they looked around for a bench to sit on and found one all the way at the back of the platform. Maddie huffed in annoyance as they walked to the bench at a fast pace, not wanting someone else to get their before they did, and John couldn’t blame her. The suitcases they were carrying were heavy, seeing as the largest one was his sister’s, which had stuff in it that would last her at least six months in the middle of nowhere if she’d have to, and the other two had the last of John’s stuff in it - Paul had brought most of his stuff up north with him after the graduation , but still John had needed to sit on both cases to close them. To their relief, they got to the bench just in time, meaning all their walking and pulling of suitcases hadn’t been for nothing. Maddie let herself fall back on it with a deep, exhausted groan, and closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Jules sat herself down beside her and John took the empty seat beside her, leaving Eric to sit on top of a suitcase. He followed Maddie’s example and let his eyes fall close.

“John?” Jules spoke after a moment of silence, turning her head to look at her older brother, who hummed to let her know he was listening. “Do you think Paul has any donkeys?”

“Donkeys?” John repeated, amused. Jules, however, was completely serious.

“Yes! You know, like those they had at that place we went to in Scotland with Mum and him. With the horses, remember?”

“I’m not sure, luv. I know he has a few sheep around the place, as well as two horses and a big ass sheepdog, but donkeys… I guess we’ll have to see.”

“I like dogs, though. So that’s good.” John opened his eyes in surprise, a frown appearing on his face as he turned to look at her. He was surprised to see just how old she now looked, having turned sixteen a few months ago. Somehow, John still thought of her as his ten-year-old sister, but she was only a year younger than he had been when he had first met Paul. Time was an odd thing, he concluded.

“I thought you were more of a cat person,” he asked and Jules nodded.

“I am. But dogs are great too. Especially large ones. You don’t have cats that large, you know? You can lie on them and cuddle with them and they’re all warm and soft and stuff,” she said and John chuckled at that.

“I suppose,” he muttered, closing his eyes again as he leaned back, resting the back of his head on his hands as some kind of pillow.

“And Paul looks a bit like a dog, doesn’t he?” Jules asked, and John could swear he heard a hint of amusement in her voice.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, guarded as he hadn’t yet told her about the true nature of his and Paul’s relationship. He was most likely just being a little paranoid, though. Now that his and Paul’s happiness was so close within reach, he couldn’t bare the idea of losing it at the last moment. Jules, however, only shrugged.

“Nothing,” she said, “I’m just saying it makes sense for him to be a dog person.” They left it at that.

          Time, though, past much faster than he had expected it, John had to admit. He waited in silence, occasionally talking with his friends or sister about all kinds of silly things or plans to see each other again. Most of the time, he spent daydreaming, though, imaging what it would be like to live with Paul at their farm in Kintyre, looking after all the animals with their own hairy sheepdog. They had been looking forward to it for so long, and now they were finally going to do it; John almost couldn’t believe it. They had actually made it this far, and John hoped they would make it through many more years together.

He also knew he was going to have to tell his sister about him and Paul. She would be staying with them for another two weeks, meaning she was going to notice some things - if not right away, then after a few days - and John didn’t want her to freak out about it or catch them doing something he’d rather not have her see. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to do it yet, though. He didn’t have a clue how she would react to the news that John wasn’t only into guys but was dating their mother’s ex-boyfriend, and that their affair had been the actual reason why Paul and their mother had broken up. It was going to be a blow for her, no matter how he was going to tell her, but he hoped she would support them.

Sooner than he had expected, though, the train arrived and they needed to get on board. Maddie and Eric helped them get their stuff inside and hoist their suitcases up on the rack above their heads once they had found an empty apartment for the two of them. Once they were settled in, John hugged both his friends close and wished them luck and happiness for the time he wouldn’t be able to see them.

“You know, I’m definitely going to visit you on your little farm, right? You won’t get rid of me just yet, Lennon. We’ve been friends for five years!” Eric exclaimed as John hugged him with so much force, Eric almost couldn’t breathe anymore, almost as if  John though it was going to be their last one. John nodded in return, knowing he was being rather ridiculous, but still buried his face in the crook of his friend’s neck and kissed him there.

“You’d better, mate. And you’d better keep me updated on your dates. Remember, I’m meeting every single one of them - over the phone if I have to! - to see if they deserve you,” John told him and Eric laughed as he nodded, pulling away from his friend to look him in the eye with a naughty grin on his face.

“I’d tell you the same thing, but I’ve already done that, haven’t I?” he joked and John blushed as he pulled away completely and hugged Maddie next, telling her she could come visit any time if she’d want to. Jules said goodbye as well, and soon the whistle of the train conductor sounded, signalling that Eric and Maddie needed to leave. They waved each other goodbye as they got off the train and stood on the platform waving, as the train got into motion and started driving out of the station. John and Jules waved them goodbye until they couldn’t see them anymore, the train having turned a corner.

“You know,” Jules said as she sat down, crossing her legs and pulling her skirt down to cover her knees. John sat down opposite her and waited for her to continue as he tried to will away the faint blush on his cheeks. “I know why you’re blushing.”

“I’m sorry?” John asked, somewhat confused. Jules smirked at her brother.

“You think I don’t know. You always think I never notice anything, but I do. I know about you and Paul, John. But I think it’s cute.”

“You know?!” Jules nodded. “Since when?!”

“When do you think? I’ve always know, brother dear. But I knew for sure when you ran away after Paul and Mum said they were going to get married. It’s not that hard to miss. Or at least for me, I suppose.”

“Does Mimi-” John asked, sighing I relief when Jules shook his head.

“She know you’re lying, though. But she doesn’t understand what’s going on between you two. I didn’t tell her about it. I know you wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“So, you know-”

“- that you’re not going to work for Paul to live there? Yes, I do. ”

“And you know-”

“That you’re together again? Like a couple? Yes”

“And you’re okay with that?” John asked and Jules nodded, smiling at him. John smiled back at that, and nodded thankfully, as he turned his head to stare out of the window, happy with her support, but not knowing what to say. Jules didn’t seem to expect any more from him, and leaned over to get out a book out of her suitcase and started reading to pass the time it would take to get all the way up the Edinburgh where they would need to change trains. John occasionally looked at her from the corner of his eyes, being so glad he had a sister like her.

“I love you, Jules,” he said after a while and Jules smiled at that as she nodded.

“I love you, too,” she said.

          The journey to Kintyre was long, but quiet and relaxing, leaving neither brother nor sister exhausted as they finally reached the outskirts of what John knew to be Paul’s farm. They had slept a lot during their trip to Edinburgh, which had been the longest, which was great for the second train ride, as that had seemed far shorter than they had expected. The ferry they had taken to cross the water had been refreshing, the cold wind rushing over their faces, and once they had gotten onto the peninsula, they had managed to hitch a ride to Paul’s farm, which had still been a while away still. But now they were finally there, excitement took over completely, leaving the two of them hyper of excitement.

The farm and its surroundings were just as gorgeous as John remembered it from last year. It was gorgeously green and the ground was so flat, John could look on for ages across acres of land. The weather was good that day, sunny with a clear blue sky, and warm enough to be able to walk around in a pair of jeans with  sweater, leaving a jacket unnecessary. John could see the horses in the distance, lazily nibbling on the grass beneath their hooves, as their tails swept to scare flies away. The light breeze glided through the manes. On the other side, were the sheep, looking perfectly content as always, and as the car came to a halt to drop them off, a large sheepdog came running into their direction, barking excitedly. Not long after, John saw a figure of a man approaching. The side made him smile and his heart race. Yet, he fought the urge to rush over to him and helped Jules get their stuff, before he thanked the guy who had drove them. Before Paul had even reached them, the man had driven off and John was attacked by the large dog, that Paul for some reason still referred to as a puppy. _This_ , John though as he got the air knocked out of his lungs, _was the furthest thing from a puppy._  

“Oh my god!  She’s so cute! Come here, girl!” Jules awed as she bent forwards and slapped with her hands on her thighs, beckoning the humongous dog to come to her. Martha looked up at the sound of her voice and gave a little bark before she rushed over to the strange, but excited girl, wagging her tail as she circled her and allowed her to pet her. John watched with an almost envious glare, wondering why Martha always seemed so easy with others and would always attack him.

“John! Jules! You’re here. How did the journey go? Any problems? I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you two up at the station. One of the chickens had escaped and we had some difficulties catching her. Chickens are faster than you might think,” Paul said as he approached them, indeed looking rather exhausted and out of breath. His forehead was even a little sweaty and his styled hair had gone all messy. Still, he looked damn good in John’s opinion. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a white shirt underneath and a pair of loos-fitting brown trousers and dark brown boots. The messiness of his hair with a grey stripes only made him so much more attractive in John’s opinion. He only hoped he looked as good to Paul, with his black drainies and dark blue shirt. He was wearing his glasses, which he knew Paul liked. God dammit, only Paul could make him care so much about what he was wearing, and he probably didn’t even care, thinking he’d look good in whatever.  

“Paul! Martha is absolutely adorable,” Jules said and John was pulled back from his thoughts and finally managed to pull his eyes away from the older man to look at his sister who was now kneeling on the ground as she hugged the dog. Paul laughed beside him and laid his hand on John’s lower back as a subtle, private greeting. John fought the urge to blush at the sparks that travelled from his lower back to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“I’m glad you think so, dear. Let’s get all your stuff inside shall we. Then I can show you around for a bit. You can play with her later, as I have something I’d like to show John,” Paul said and John turned to look at him in surprise at the mention of his name, wondering what Paul could possibly want to show him. The older man winked at him and stepped away from him to help them with their suitcases, the touch of his hand lingering on John’s lower back. Jules nodded and kissed Martha, before she got back up and picked up a suitcase as well. Martha barked in excitement as they started to make their way to the house.

“I take it you all would like something to drink after such a long trip, wouldn’t you? The tea should be ready once we get there. I asked Linda to put the kettle on,” Paul said as they approached the house.

“Linda? Who is Linda?” John asked, feeling his hands tightening their hold on the suitcase he was carrying. He forced himself to remain calm.

“Yes. I hired her to help me with farm when you weren’t here. She couldn’t often come, but she sometimes comes to help for a few weeks. Didn’t I ever mention her?”

“No. No, you did not,” John muttered in reply, turning his head to look at Paul when he felt him nudging his elbow, asking for his attention, and found Paul smiling at him.

“You’re not jealous are you?” he asked in a whisper, keeping his voice down so Jules wouldn’t hear what they were talking about. John shrugged, pretending he wasn’t.

“No. Of course not.”

“John-“

“I’m not!” John objected, but Paul merely rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head.

“I know you better than that, John. But don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to be jealous of.”

“Don’t I?” John scoffed, but his voice had a twinge of hopefulness about it that made Paul smirk. He looked up to see Jules running off to the house with Martha quite a few meters before them, and quickly pressed a kiss to John’s cheek, before he quickened his pace, following her. John blushed lightly for a moment, before grinning as well and speeding up his pace as well.

John was the last one to step into the farmhouse, the others having already taken off their shoes, put the suitcases in the hallways, and gone into the kitchen for tea. John was glad to see how little the house had changed since he had last been here, already having the feeling of coming home. The place was cosy, with the old, second hand mismatched furniture and it was rather messy, Paul having probably been too busy with the farm itself to do much around the house, but John didn’t mind. He liked it. He could hear excited voices from the kitchen, so he took off his shoes and made his way over there. He halted in the doorway when he saw a strange blonde woman in the kitchen, pouring them all some tea. She was talking with Jules, as Paul got Martha a treat as well.

“Ah! And you must be, John! Paul told me a lot about you,” the strange woman said and John was taken aback by the strong American accent. He frowned at her, but still shook her hand as she offered it with a kind smile. John had to admit she was rather beautiful, but very American looking and quite tall. She was wearing comfy country clothes and wore little make up – if any.

“Yes. And you are Linda then?” John asked, not being able to match her happy tone. She didn’t seem to mind however, and simply nodded as she asked him if he wanted some tea. John accepted reluctantly and moved to stand beside Paul, pressing is leg up against his for touch, wanting to stay close to him and keep him away from this strange woman. Paul seemed to have noticed.

“When does your train leave again, Lin?” he asked and John already felt better at the suggestion that she would leave soon. He felt even better when she answered she’d leave that following day.

“I don’t want to be in your way now John is back. And I feel like going home again.”

“Of course. If you’d ever like to come back, that’s fine of course. You could even bring your little girl with you if you’d like. Now, could you show Jules here her room once you two have finished. I’d like to show John a little something, okay?” Paul asked and Linda nodded with a smile. Before John had even finished his tea, he was already being pulled out of the kitchen and dragged outside by Paul.  

“Where are we going?” John asked as they made their way across the field, Paul leading the way.

“A surprise. You’ll see,” Paul answered in return with a little smirk and reached out for John’s hand, entangling their fingers as he pulled him close to him, making him walk beside him. “I meant it, by the way. You have no reason to be jealous of Linda. She’s only hear to help while you’re away. It’s not easy doing this on your own.” John hummed in return. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” John replied with a sigh, leaning close to Paul as they continued walking, “I guess I just… I don’t know. It’s silly.”

“No. Tell me,” Paul urged on and John sighed again as he shrugged.

“I guess I’m just so excited that we finally get to do this, just the two of us. I don’t want to have to share you again.”

“John, dear, you’re not going to have to show me with anyone ever again, okay? It’s just you and me now. I promise you,” Paul said with a squeeze of his hand and John chuckled at that as he nodded.

“I know. It’s not that I don’t trust you… I just… was scared, I guess,” he admitted and Paul pressed against kiss to his cheek, before speeding up his pace.

“Come on. We’re almost there.”

          It was still a bit of a walk to the surprise and John found himself wondering what it could be, but he couldn’t think of anything that would require them to walk all this way. He had even tried to ask Paul again, but no matter what he tried, or how often, Paul wouldn’t say a word about it, leaving John to guess. It was slowly becoming rather frustrating, especially when Paul started to notice and would tease him by stopping every once in a while to look at some stupid flower or animal or whatever. When he stopped for the sixth time, John was done with it and grabbed his lover by his hand and this time dragged him off instead of the other way around. Paul was laughing hysterically at that, and had then promised he wouldn’t stop anymore. Of course, he hadn’t been able to resist the urge one last time, but then they got to the edge of Paul’s land and John could see what surprise Paul meant.

“Is… is that it?” John asked, pointing into the direction where he small wooden shed stood. He turned to look at Paul and frowned when the older man nodded, an excited smile appearing on his face.

“Come on,” he said and together they walked the rest of the way.

“What is it?” John couldn’t help but ask.

“You’ll see,” Paul answered in a teasing sing-song voice, but John hadn’t expected any differently. When they finally reached the shed, Paul nodded at the door and told John to open it. John stared at the handle in mistrust, but when Paul urged him on, he wrapped his fingers around it and turned it anyway, pulling the door open.

“Oh wow!” John exclaimed as he looked in through the door and carefully stepped inside, his eyes wide as he took in the little shed. Or… writing shed, he should say. It was a gorgeous little room made out of warm woods, with an expensive second-hand rug on the floor with a comfy looking sofa on it. One wall was completely made out of bookshelves, reaching all the way up to the top, which were all already filled with all sorts of books. There was one window, which looked out over the farm land, under which a desk was placed, with a comfy chair behind it and a typewriter on top of it. A stack of papers lay beside it, ready for him.

“This is for me?” John asked in disbelieve, turning around with wide eyes as Paul stepped inside behind him, a proud smile on his face as he nodded.

“I build it after you had left the last time. It’s kind of a like a welcome present. You like it?”

“Like it?! Damnit, Paul!” John answered with a laugh as he saw another shelve by the door with all his records and a record player on it. Above their heads, he now also noticed, hung a lamp.

“It even has electricity,” Paul said proudly as he saw John looking.

“And you build this?”

“Well, I had help. Lots of it,” Paul admitted and John jumped at him, kissing him with all his might as he wrapped himself around the older man, showing him just how much he liked it.

“I love you, Paul,” he said as he pulled away, turning back around to have another good look.

“Yes, well. You better write a best seller in here, John. Now, let’s head back to the others, yeah? I think Jules would like to ride one of the horses before we have dinner, don’t you think.”

“Sure. As long as I don’t have to be on one. I told you last time, Paul. Never again,” John answered and Paul nodded, offering John his hand, which the younger man took. They got out of the little shed and Paul locked it with a key, before putting it in the right front pocket of John’s trousers. John gave him one last proper kiss, before they started walking back in silence.

“Just so you know, Jules knows about us. Always has, as a matter of fact,” John said once they were only a few meters away from the house; Martha already came running up to them. Paul hummed at that and nodded.

“Yeah, I had figured something like that. Well, I guess it’s a good thing. Linda knows too actually, so at least we won’t have to hide anymore,” he said and John nodded as he bent down to scratch Martha behind her ear; she wagged her tail happily to show her thanks.

“Does that mean I get to sleep in your bed from now on?” John asked as he watched Martha with a happy smile. Paul nodded.

“Of course. And I won’t have to leave every night anymore,” he said and the younger man chuckled at the memory. Once his laughter had died down he looked up at the farm and sighed, halting his pace. Paul turned around to see what was wrong.

“We really did it, didn’t we, Paul? I told you we would,” John said as he looked at the farm. Their farm. Paul nodded.

“That you did.”

“You should listen to me more often,” John remarked and Paul laughed at that, shaking his head.

“Yeah, let’s not draw such radical conclusion just yet, Johnny. Come on. They’re waiting,” Paul said and reach out for him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder as he pulled him against him, and John let him, loving how warm and fuzzy Paul made him feel, and loving the feeling of being able to simply show his affection for the other man now without having to worry. They really had made it and John couldn’t be happier.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first posted on my Tumblr and later on my Wattpad account as well. I have re-checked each chapter as I've posted it for spelling and grammar mistakes, but I might have missed some, so please excuse any. The age of consent in 16 in my country, but of course the relationship remains dubious. I don't wish to offend anyone, so please, if you don't like the age-gap, don't read it. Thanks. If you do, please enjoy it ;) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles or their friends and family, this is fiction, and I do not make money from this.


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